We like 'em young and a little broken
by notthetype
Summary: A complicated con involving Simon and River's parents has some unexpected consequences for Jayne. Meanwhile, a grieving Zoe has to reevaluate her life as Inara brings a former apprentice aboard Serenity to tutor River. 2 years post BDM. now rated M.
1. Fat Cow

**A/N: Right, I'm in the middle of finishing up my Star Trek fic **_**Half and Half**_**, and sort of needed some time away from it, and a new project so I don't freak out about finishing the last one. Not sure about this one, I just really wanted to do Firefly. I have some more creative ideas for where this is gonna go, just in case it all sounds too much like been there, done that.**

**Anyways, I'm one of those sad people who still bemoan the fact that the show was cancelled. Every time I watch it on DVD, I end up pointing at the screen moaning "Why? Oh, why?" (Never saw it on TV in the first place, like so many people, it was all word of mouth)**

**OK, back to business: This is set two years post BDM. It's Rayne, but not just. I didn't mess with people's ages (so River is 19 and Jayne is between 40 and 42, … I know, I know, but hey, that's just the way the cookie crumbles.)**

**Not sure if Greenleaf is really on the outer rim, if not, let me know.**

**Reviews are massively appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly or any of its characters. (I will introduce an important OC at a later point, so be forewarned.)**

"Gorramn pansy assed Doc and his gorramn stupid 'mergency meeting." Jayne grumbled under his breath as he made it through the hatch of the mess, where the rest of the crew was seated around the table. Mal and Zoe looked politely bored already, Inara attentive and gorgeous as usual, Kaylee had that goofy grin on her face as she watched the Doc, who was standing just outside the kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back, looking like he fancied whatever the heck he was gonna tell them would be mighty important, and River just sat there smiling that creepefying smile she donned when she knew something you didn't. Jayne let himself fall into his chair next to hers with a loud groan he intended to show his annoyance and general displeasure. An odd look of pain crossed the Doc's face just then, but he seemed to squash whatever bothered him back down as he stood up that much straighter and announced:

"As you may be aware, I have had some tentative contact with River and my parents over the last year and a half." The Doc started, as if he was taking up a speech he'd begun a while back.

As a matter of fact, Jayne hadn't been aware, but didn't really give a monkey's rear end.

_So pansy ass-doc had been chatting on the cortex with his pansy-ass ma and pa, big whoopdy doo._

"I have made a clear point to the effect that neither River nor I wish them to return to our lives in anything but the most ephemeral fashion…"

_Whatever the hell that meant._

"'Means corporal presence is undesired, emotional and cognitive consideration are likewise unwelcome." River leaned into his personal space and whispered into his ear.

"Oh, I see…" He gave her his best sardonic grin, rolled his eyes, and then shoved her back into her seat. "You ain't helping, Crazy, and get the hell outta ma head."

"…However, it appears that they have somehow conceived the notion that our sporadic contact and the removal of both River and I from the Alliance's list of fugitives, has returned both of us to the lap of the family, with all the obligations this entails."

"Say what now?" Mal raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"'Means they have perceived their chance to benefit from a long term investment they thought long lost. The cow is fat when they had thought it dead." River tilted her head to the side, and gave the Capn' a little benevolent smile. Jayne rolled his eyes again and made a small noise in the back of his throat.

Mal looked somewhat puzzled, his mouth open like he were trying to catch flies, then he simply shrugged and repeated in the Doc's direction:

"Say what now?"

"I have been informed that my parents have made arrangements for a socially and economically beneficial match for River." And for once having the good grace to simplify his big talk, he added: "They intend to marry River off for their own gain."

There was a sharp noise of chairs scraping as everyone turned to face River rather more energetically than would be considered the norm, and stared at her. She still wore that small smile, unconcerned and looking almost happy.

"'You not upset about this, sweetie? Ain't ya worried?" Kaylee broke the stunned silence.

"No reason. Captain Daddy, and Simon, and Papa Bear, and Zoe won't allow it."

_Damn right they weren't gonna. _

Looking at her sitting there, her feet tugged under her, mostly covered by that frilly dress she wore over some dark trousers, combat boots peaking out, her upper half completely hidden by one of Mal's old jumpers at least five sizes too big for her, and Jayne's orange and yellow woolly hat on her head, hair poking out at odd angles, she looked like a paedophile's hottest fantasy. And then there was still that whole ass crazy trained assassin thing. _What sick hun dan would want to marry that._

_Now, he'd gotten mighty close to the crazy girl over the last two years, heck, she was the closest he'd ever gotten to havin' a real partner. Wouldn't even chuck her out a ship 30 feet off the ground or nothin'. Not that it would help none, anyways, the girl weighed less than a decent sized cat. And she'd saved his ass plenty of times. And he liked having another hired gun on the ship, even if 'ficially she were the pilot. And he liked having someone to train with. And the fact that if you knew what she was gonna say before she said it, she kinda made sense now, made him feel all smart like. But weren't no one but some sorry ass pervert gonna try and sex her. _

"Precisely." Simon said with emphasis, somewhat startling Jayne.

"Huh?"

"We are most certainly not going to let this happen."

"Oh."

"So I have worked out a plan. I have been unable to convince my parents not to proceed with the preparations, and while I would love to simply turn my back on them, I fear that that would lead to complications. My father can be a very persistent man, when the mood strikes him. Particularly given the fact that he sees nothing wrong with what he is doing, quite the opposite, in fact. The much more prudent approach is to deal with this problem now and be rid of it."

There were some grumbled noises of agreement, and Mal noted:

"Sounds feasible enough, an how'd we do that? Bearing in mind that I don't much care for loosing money while we waste time to persuade some core bred idiot not to marry our little witch."

"I have arranged for a meeting with my parents and my sister's prospective husband during our next visit to Greenleaf, no unscheduled detours, Captain."  
"You're getting them to meet us in the outer rim, well that sounds promising." Zoe raised an eyebrow and smiled with amusement.

"Exactly." Simon looked almost smug.

"I want them to fully understand how little both River and I fit into their world."

"Don't get me wrong here, Simon, but you're still pretty fancy when you wanna be, and lil' Albatross her, well…, she ain't exactly gonna fit in anywhere… 'xept here, of course." Mal gave River an affectionate smile to indicate he had not meant to exclude her. She smiled back sweetly.

"That's why we're going to act." Simon clarified. "After all, we are professional con artists when the situation calls for it, are we not?"

A wide grin spread across Inara's face, it would almost have been worrying had they not all known how much she loved all that pretending go se.

"Now, we have another two weeks until we get to Greenleaf; until then, I suggest we work out exactly who you are all going to be when we meet my parents…. Um, Jayne, you don't need to worry about that bit, you can just be yourself."

"Why do I get a feelin' you're insultin' me, doc?"

Simon just gave him a mildly apologetic smile.

"An' what about all that fine pretindin' and stuff is gonna make us any money?"

"It somewhat pains me to say it, Doc, but Jayne's got a point. Can't much afford to waste time in these hard times, need to keep my girl in the sky." Mal crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave Simon a stern look.

Before Simon had a chance to reply, River giggled quietly.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire. Captain Daddy needs monetary compensation, but he will not insist upon it."

"Fair enough, lil witch, but it would still be mighty fine to see some recompense." Mal's mouth had set in a grim line, clearly a might irritated that Crazy had outed his soft centre.

"Not to worry, Captain, I have taken our financial situation into account. It is customary for the prospective groom to bring the full dowry to every official marriage meeting. I believe the sum agreed upon is more than enough to excuse a small reevaluation of our schedule." There was that smug smile again.

"Hang on a minute. He's bringin' cashy money to buy yer sister with? Ain't that a little… ahm,… distasteful." A whole table worth of disbelieving faces turned towards Jayne.

"Heck, don't loot at me like that, ya all know what I mean. Ain't nothing wrong with paying fer some trim ifn the girl is willin', but payin' fer a whole girl, and her not havin' much of a say in it, that ain't the same thing."

River invaded his personal space once again as her index finger moved slowly and deliberately across his brow, weirding him out something fierce.

"Papa Bear too is all mushy on the inside, soft tissue, and organs, and blood." He gave her a small growl and a disgusted quirk of his lips, but she simply smiled serenely.

_Trust her to make her version of "Awww" sound like she were about to cut him open again._

"Ain't I done told you a million times not to call me that. Ifn Mal likes being Captain Daddy, that don't mean I like being Papa Bear, dong ma?" She merely stared off into the middle distance in that infuriating way she had of ignoring people when it pleased her. He was damn sure she just used the crazy sometimes.

"Well, if I catch the good doctor's gist here, he ain't gonna pay for the whole girl, he's gonna have his dowry stolen right form under his nose, ain't that right?" Mal's mood had improved noticeably.

"My plan exactly, Captain." Simon nodded.

"So, about that pretindin' thin', who exactly are we 'spposed to be, anyways?" Jayne was still trying to work out the Doc's earlier slight, and hoped that his question would give him some pointers. As if on cue, there was that pained look from before.

"Well, Jayne…. Ahm, while I don't require you to change your personality for this little performance, I will still need some type of acting." That odd look hadn't left his face. Everyone else seemed to notice too, and Mal stood up and clamped a hand on the Doc's shoulder.

"Now, why am I gettin' the feeling I ain't gonna like this much?"

"Well, you see, there are two types of arranged marriages on Osiris. In more prestigious circles, and I need to add that our family would be included here, under normal circumstances, the daughters of the household would receive some elementary training from a registered companion." Here the Doc looked at Inara briefly and gave her a slightly embarrassed grin. "So for our intents and purposes, Inara has to pose as anything but a companion. River has had no training and it would look odd if we had a companion readily available." He took a deep breath and continued: "The other, far less impressive condition for a bride to be, is that of being a virgin. You must understand that even the young women trained by companions would have no other exposure to physical intimacy than what is effectively part of their training. Unfortunately, my father has had access to River's medical files and is aware that she fulfils at least the less glamorous condition of eligibility." There was a much less noticeable shift in the crew, as once again all faces turned towards River. She still had that far away look in her eyes, but as she noticed the somewhat uncertain glances of the rest of the crew, she gave them an encouraging smile.

"So where does that leave us? I'm to be what, seeing as I'm not a companion?" Inara looked a little confused.

"Anything you want, as long as it isn't respectable, educated or core-bred." Simon noted.

"I think I'm starting to see where the doc is goin' with this, Sir." Zoe's eyes had gone wide and that amused little smile was on her face once again. As much as it made Jayne feel just a might uncomfortable, it was nice to see Zoe smile, it didn't happen too often these days.

"We'll be playing up the crude, rim-scum, criminal angle, I take it?" Mal didn't seem to expect a long-winded answer, his question had been more of a deduction.

"Indeed, Captain."

"I don't rightly see how that's gonna get Crazy away form that idiot what wants to marry her… Or us near his cashy money, for that matter." Jayne had his large arms folded over his chest and gave the Doc his best sneer.

"As a matter of fact, Jayne, you have a rather large part to play in both." Simon assured him, that strange expression on his face again.

"Firstly, we have to make River undesirable as a match, and while the company of a bunch of ruffians will do some damage to her reputation, it won't be enough to dissuade the man if my father has offered sufficient social incentive – which I have no doubt in my mind, he has."

There was an odd little squeak from Inara, immediately followed by a soft chuckle from Zoe.

"Huh? What the gorramn hell is so funny?"

Not answering his question, but rather pressing on as if he couldn't get the words out of his mouth quickly enough, Simon continued:

"And secondly, we'll require a distraction, I believe a large-scale brawl will suffice. We will select the venue for the meeting accordingly."

Jayne noticeably perked up at this, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Now, I like the sound of that, an' I'd be more 'an glad to help you with that… 'Still don't explain how you're gonna make the moonbrain less appealin' to the sick hun dan what wants her."

This earned him a number of sympathetic looks from the woman-folk. Mal looked a little mystified himself, but the Doc had just put one hand over his eyes and seemed less than happy to go on.

"I can't say it. Would someone else please enlighten him?"

"With pleasure, Doc."

_He took back what he'd said 'bout Zoe smilin'._

She cocked her head to her side and gave him a positively evil grin.

"If you were expecting a vulnerable, young, virginal bride, what would be the worst thing you could get instead?"

"A dude?" Jayne ventured with little hope of success. Oh, well, at least he got a giggle from Kaylee for that one.

"Ok, apart from that?"

"Aw, heck, Zoe, I dunno, but yer clearly dyin' to tell me, so have at it."

"Well, I reckon a crazy, tiny slip of a girl being on the arm of the meanest looking, largest mercenary between here and the core, and all the rather distasteful sexin' that would imply, should just about do the trick."

Jayne just gaped at here, then opened and closed his mouth a few times, before sputtering and finally forcing out:  
"Have you all gone and done lost yer marbles? I ain't sexin' Crazy… Now, I've gone and done some more adventurous things with some of the whores I've been with… don't much pride myself on some… never done the sly thing, but I ain't averse to some of the more unusual practices… that ain't the point here. I ain't never once looked at a little girl twice… that ain't my thing… that shouln't be anyone's thing, dong ma? Ain't sexing up som chit of a girl what ain't even a woman." He had been absolutely frantic in his delivery, completely ignoring the numerous attempts by the crew to interrupt him. When he had finally finished, the first person to get a word in edgeways was River, who looked up at him rather dolefully, small pout in place:

"She is anatomically correct and physically mature."

"Yea, well, ya ain't 'natomically ample, now, are ya." He practically glared down at her, his outrage easily translated into irritation.

"Jayne, not to ruin your fine rant on morals, here, and I'm not liking this one bit either, but ya seem ta have missed the operative word her, which is 'pretendin'" Mal looked decidedly uncomfortable but there was a determined set to his mouth.

"Oh… right." Jayne noted somewhat sheepishly.


	2. Bells and Protein Mash

**A/N: I'll keep this short and sweet.**

**First off: Thank you so much for the reviews, I know there is not enough here, to see where this is going yet, but any comment is appreciated.**

**Secondly: I was a little nervous about writing from River's POV, but I have to say I enjoyed it, so let me know what you think of my take on her inner workings. (She is going to be one of four main characters in this)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly or any of its characters. (If wishes were horses we'd all be eatin' steak.)**

She trailed her fingers gently along the wall of the corridor, the numerous metal protrusions made her hand fly away into non-existence, dissolving once it lost contact, only to land once again, securely on the metal sheeting, re-emerging out of the void.

_It is love that grounds us, too._

Mal's bunk, hatch closed, quiet inside… bright orange dancing on her tongue, muted by dark earthy colours, loss and the fear of more permeating his every breath as he drowned in the sweet oblivion of his sleep.

'Don't come too close, never too close, or the dragon death will take you too, the way it has taken all the others.'

River shook her head in pity.

_Poor Captain Daddy, he does not know that the dragon cares nothing for closeness, but that love is the only thing that's left when he's done his worst. You give him nothing to take, and you have nothing to keep._

Zoë's bunk… could not bear to stay where every wall only reflected _his_ face. Small, less room did not mean fewer memories, though. She tasted of dark green in her sleep; there used to be overlays of bright apples and the sound of long grass in the wind… when _he_ was still there. Now she was like a deep dark pool, no way of knowing what lay beneath, so deep, it held all the tears she had not shed.

Kaylee's bunk… empty. But her clear yellow, bell-bright noise travelled to her all the way from the passenger dorms. Asleep now, too, Simon's arms wrapped securely around her, his pale blue and silvery grey mingling with her light.

Jayne's bunk… red, always red. But no longer the colour of blood, now it came in many shades… bright, almost orange, but warmer than Mal's, a new shade: pale, powdery and pink, when he thought of Kaylee, Inara, Zoe, and now herself too, like they were fragile things that could not withstand all they had already withstood, and that deep, dark burgundy that reminded her of the taste of wine she was not supposed to know. He was quiet too, now, no loud thoughts in his sleep.

She stood at the railings looking down into the cargo bay. The taste of Inara's soft purple drifted gently towards her; the companion's emotions always directed at others, never herself, sounded like the chimes of a small clock, counting down the time until it would once more be too much to bear.

River's hands on the metal railing made her real, the sounds and tastes all around her, the quiet noise of the engine as Serenity enveloped her, held her and her entire universe within her delicate metal skin.

---

Simon's laughter greeted her when she entered the mess for breakfast. The sound was different from the dark pewter she remembered. One of Kaylee's bells had travelled across the expanse between them, and now lived in Simon's mouth. River smiled a little thinking of how it had gotten there.

"No, absolutely not! I would not be able to keep a straight face." He announced, but was still smiling, the bell dancing in his voice.

"Oh, come on, honey, I think it's a shiny idea, and ain't you keen to really make them uncomfortable? Now I reckon Inara's plan is just perfect for that." There were still plenty of the small chiming orbs left inside of Kaylee. River gave her a wide smile. Today she was a girl; she liked being a girl best of all.

"Good morning sweetie, you sleep well?" Kaylee gave her a smile that felt like small white flowers. Inara and Simon, who were seated on either side of her smiled brightly as well and wished her a good morning in turn.

"My recuperation cycle is less expansive than average, a measurement of evaluation is superfluous, it fulfilled its purpose." Her smile was still in place, but she noticed that of the other woman taking on a slightly more strained quality. There were words in River's head such as "yes", "very", "well", "and" and "you", she simply was never able to reach them first, other words always crowded her mouth and forced their way to freedom, bigger words, colder words.

Well, she was mostly a girl today.

To make up for it, she took a deep breath and tried to quiet the scramble from her mind to her tongue. Slowly, deliberately she told them:  
"Simon thinks it is an excellent idea too, really, he wants to see Captain Daddy's face. Simon is an excellent actor, he was an Alliance official once." She could not help but grin from ear to ear at her own success.

"'There something you might want to tell me, Doc? 'Bout being Alliance, say?" Mal had just stepped through the hatch behind River, face stern but amusement dancing around him like a swirling cloud of tinsel.

"'When I broke River out of the facility, Captain. I pretended to be a high ranking official." Simon looked a little flustered, as if he had taken Captain Daddy seriously. Little tufts of panic were escaping his head like violet mist.

"I see, and what about ma face?"

Three giant grins greeted him from the table; however, no answer was forthcoming.

River tilted her head to the side and laughed, still giddy from her earlier feat of making her words obey, she turned towards Mal, giggling a little and told him:

"I sit by the shore, and wait for the wind."

"Huh?"

"Patience." Inara explained, her own grin still firmly in place.

---

Inara's shuttle was filled with the dark glow of lingering emotions; most of them her own, but River could detect some pale green shards of bashfulness just left of the small bedside table that held yet another cluster of candles, and right behind one of the small display cabinets filled with ornaments, a bright pink wisp of accomplishment stared at her cheekily through the glass. She gave it a bright grin, before a sound like a metal keg exploding from too much pressure, drew her attention to her immediate right. Papa Bear was seated next to her on Inara's elaborately draped and be-cushioned settee; bolt upright, discomfort surrounding him like a silvery mist, he dragged the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed discontentedly.

"'Still smells funny… don' like it." He muttered.

"An' why is it we gotta be here, again?"

Images of his bunk and two of his girls in need of cleaning drifted from his mind into the room, only to be replaced by those of a rather generously proportioned blonde sans clothing, reaching out for something just beyond the field of vision, suddenly the images came to a screeching halt, River quirked an eyebrow and frowned.

"Damn it, Crazy, cut that out!"

Inara, a little puzzled by Papa Bear's sudden anger towards River, chose to ignore his little outburst and answered his earlier question instead:

"You are here because I have been entrusted with ensuring that your performance is as convincing as possible." Inara gave them both her most professional smile.

Papa Bear sneered.

"That, and Simon is unwilling to view her as she will have to portray herself, he sees many things: little girl, muscle tissue and veins, the experiment, but he cannot bear to see _that_ in her. Always what she was and is, never what she could be." River elaborated. This earned her a gruff little bark of laughter.

"Well, it might just be worth the trouble ifn the Doc's gonna be all creepefied. But I don't rightly see how's I need help with this. I'll just grab Crazy's ass a couple'a times, keep her close, and act all hot and bothered, 'ain't exactly rocket science, is it?"

"Oh, it might not be that, but it's a lot more complicated than that, Jayne. Their first reaction to us presenting you as River's lover, will be sheer disbelief, there is no way they are going to buy this without us orchestrating every detail of your performance. Every glance, every touch has to be in place, every kiss has to be…"

"Woahhh-ho, hold yer mules there, 'Nara, every what now? You know damn well I ain't the kissin' kind, ain't gonna break a long standin' habit on account of some fancy-ass core folk, neither. An' aside from all a that, Crazy, you ever kissed anyone, anyways." For the last part of his little rant he turned towards River, the silvery fog had thickened and small purplish red sparks were dancing around its shimmering periphery.

"Negatory, but she would not be kissing Papa Bear, even if we were to perform all the necessary and defining physical actions, it would be thespian in nature, not emotionally expressive."

"Ah damn, and I was on a roll here, got all that crap 'bout the Doc bein' uncomfortable, like. … What?"

"She has no romantic feelings towards Papa Bear, just as he has none towards her." She had once again slowed down her speech, making sure to select every word deliberately, carefully.

"My point 'sactly. Don't wanna be the first to shove his tongue down yer throat, ain't right, Crazy. Now, ya know I ain't 'motional when it comes ta most things, but yer my friend now, hell if I know why, but y'are, an' I'd rather have ya have a proper first kiss, dong ma? Don' think I'd do a good job, neither."

"Papa Bear places too much importance on simple actions, she is not sentimentally inclined the way he is. Basic initiation procedures to human mating are inconsequential to her. She has had metal spikes in her eyeballs, she will not mid Papa Bear's tongue in her mouth so terribly much." As an afterthought, she added:  
"And she returns your sentiment of affection and regard." She smiled brightly at him.

"You just done and called me soft, Crazy?"

Her smile turned into a wicked little grin. Papa Bear merely sighed deeply, the silvery fog still in place, but no longer framed by sparks.

"'Right 'Nara, get on with it then. But I ain't doin' nothing until I absolutely have ta, dong ma? Ain't touchin' Crazy 'till we're in front of her folks, right?"

"But how are you to understand the complex…" Inara began.

"She will take care of things." River interjected, before Papa Bear had a chance to go into another rant.

"Well, mei mei, I am more concerned about your performance than about Jayne's, actually. You have no experience, either physical or emotional, so I'm a little worried." Inara still bore that composed, professional expression, but her purple had gone darker, colder, she was indeed concerned.

"She has experiences. Not her own, but she has collected them all, lust and love, and little pants, and small sighs… the way she has collected everything else, like shiny marbles and pieces of string, like little brightly coloured candy drops, she keeps them in her treasure chest." Here she tapped her forehead lightly and smiled soothingly.

"That's… ahm, _nice?,_… mei mei, but I don't think it's quite the same. And I have to agree with Jayne at least in some part, I would hate for your first experiences, no matter how emotionally insignificant, to be of the terrifying, crude nature." She looked at Papa Bear rather sternly here. He merely lifted both hands in a weak gesture of defence.

"And I don't think your reader abilities, no matter how little I may understand them, can be regarded as a substitute for…" River felt the need to interrupt her:

"She does not think they are substitutes, but they will help her, will make her game seem real." She defended.

"This is not a game, River. Your parents will find a way to take you away from us if we let them, or could you imagine any other situation in which Simon would conceive of a plan that involves you and Jayne in a romantic relationship?"

River had to smile at this, in spite of the murky wave of violet that rushed from Inara's mind; it brightened into a soft lilac, as the older woman, too, had to smile.

"Yea, this is all sorts of … surreal, ain't it?" Papa Bear commented on the bitter amusement on the women's faces.

"Is it ever? Well, we'd better get to work. Let's start with eye contact. Jayne, would you please look at River as if she were… ahm, well…"

"Ma girl?" Papa Bear interjected helpfully, the silvery mist sparking ever so slightly.

"Ahm, yes." Inara almost blushed.

Papa Bear turned towards River and proceeded to glare at her, mouth set in a tense line and his eyes straining enough to look as if they were about to pop out of his head.

River frowned.

"Ahm, Jayne, let's try some desire, shall we." Inara sounded a lot less sure of herself. The pink wisp of accomplishment behind its glass fort turned fuzzy around the edges and started to bob up and down as if it were laughing.

Papa Bear now stared at her as if she were food, nothing appealing like cake of fruit, but protein mush, lukewarm and a little on the stale side.

Inara groaned.

"Oh Buddha, this is going to be harder than I thought."


	3. At the Silver Moon

**A/N: This is a little longer, but it's sort of an important scene.**

**To Brown-in-the-Black: Well, it's a Simon plan, not a Mal plan, and with no-one double-crossing them, it has a fair chance of working out. Hee hee.**

**A big thank you for the reviews, I truly appreciate them.**

**Translation: jin yu = goldfish (I'm using it as a simile)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

They had been to the Silver Moon before. The beer was decent enough, the clientele was rough bordering on downright unsavoury, and the working girls were of the obliging but feisty kind. All in all, it was just the sort of place Jayne liked, which, of course, made it perfect for what they had planned.

The bar was still empty on account of it being around noon. The Doc, Inara, Kaylee, and Crazy had gone upstairs to change, while Jayne, Zoë, and Mal started to prep the room.

Mal had some connections from the war with Ruthie, the Madame, which was just as well, since they'd be bringing what looked like competition to her little saloon. So nipping that catfight in the butt before it could start, was just as well. They wanted a brawl, but not the sort where a bunch of whores would try to pull every hair from Inara's and Kaylee's head.

Jayne got momentarily sidetracked from his task of 'fixin'' the little side-table on which the bag with the dowry would be kept during 'negotiations' by some mental images that involved the aforementioned crewmembers, some painted ladies, and very little by the way of clothing.

"The likelihood of the ceiling spontaneously releasing lactose rich dessert is negligible to non existent."

Crazy startled him, made him almost jump; gorramn girl had that sneaking thing all covered. She was standing right behind him, next to the table reserved for their little meet. Inara had clearly gotten her hands on her, since her hair was all done nice, the top bit pulled back in a little messy knot, and the rest left to fall down in waves around her shoulders. She was wearing one of those girly dresses; only this one was cut kinda low, and … _well hello, where did you two come from?_

Not allowing a semi-formed thought to properly enter his mind, Jayne focused on being mad:

"Damn it, Crazy, nearly made me cut too deep. An' get the hell outta ma head!"

Smiling that infuriating smile, she just put her hands behind her back and swayed slightly from side to side.

"Papa Bear will find pretending easier than he thinks. But he must take care not to laugh at Simon."

_Yea, she didn't need to be tellin' him that. He'd seen what the Doc had planned and there weren't no question about the fact that Mal would have a coron…, cori…, heart attack, once he laid eyes on the Doc and 'his two girls'. Hardest thing would be not ta bray like an ass when the three of 'em went all out and Mal's face went jin yu._

---

He'd been right. Just the three of them coming downstairs made Mal stop mid-sentence and gape like nobody's business.

"What in the gorramn name of all that is good and holy in the verse are you up to?" He'd put his hands on his hips like some pissed off washerwoman and looked about ready to lose it.

"Well, you see, Captain, after my father cut me off and the Alliance closed my accounts, my morals speedily disintegrated and my lack of finances took precedent. Utilising my vast talents with the ladies," here the Doc paused for comic effect, but Mal was too stunned to laugh. Giving a small shrug, the Doc continued "and fuelled by my ever growing alcohol problem, I decided to throw my lot in with a bunch of smugglers, pirates, and the likes, and to have in my employ two rather lovely young ladies, whose vertical business ventures I arrange and therefore benefit from vastly… ahm, let's say by 80%?" He shoved his purple shades up his nose and gave a convincing little drunken sway.

Kaylee, readjusting her bosom in the rather too tight corset, grinned widely, her bright red lipstick a little smudged to help with the overall effect, and noted:

"Bad pimp, 80% that ain't nothing but slavery, bad, bad pimp!"

Mal hadn't so much as twitched. He was just staring at Inara, then Kaylee, then Inara again. The older woman too, was dressed and made up like a common whore, and the mad little joke that implied, wasn't lost on any of them. Even though she was altogether too graceful and elegant to be completely believable, she'd given her eyes a hooded sort of expression and her mouth a certain slackness, that made her look only half there, like she'd puffed on the opium pipe one too many times.

Mal still wasn't ready to talk, it seemed.

Crazy danced into the middle of their little group just then, spinning in a quick double pirouette before sing-songed in a creepefying voice:

"Debauchery and degradation, isn't it charming? What a lovely welcome they shall have."

"Shiny, just shiny." Mal's words were dripping with sarcasm.

---

The Tams were everything Jayne had feared, Tristan Hawmauth _Esquire_ was even worse. Regan Tam's face had an expression as if she were staring at dog shit on her shoes for the entire duration of polite introductions. Gabriel Tam's face had no expression at all, which was almost the worst, had it not been for the look on Hawmauth's face, which was all kinds of expressive when he ogled River, and none of the kinds was good.

There were no hugs, no tears, nothing Jayne would have expected, had his own ma come to see him for the first time in five or even three years. He decided there and then that the Doc was a hot water bottle with one of them gorramn fluffy covers when compared with his parents.

They had now settled into their seats, all proper like, with the Tams, Hawmauth, and his two security goons on one end of the table, cashy money stored on the side-table after Simon had got a good look at it. Jayne gave the goons a once over and concluded that he was not impressed; all flashy bulk but no substance behind it, he could see that from a mile away. He and River could take ten of their kind and not even break a sweat.

Mal and Zoë, formed the centre at their end of the table, Simon sat to Zoë's right, flanked by Kaylee and Inara, Jayne and Crazy were to Mal's left, they were all still behaving themselves, but Regan Tam was eyeing the two doled up girls with distaste and some confusion.

The Doc had liberally splashed some rotgut on his face and clothes, his hair was a little dishevelled and he did a nice job leaning a little unsteadily on one arm, eyeing his parents.

"Mother, father, I've been trying to tell you… I'm not really at liberty to offer you River, or rather, I would not be entirely comfortable in doing so." His words were precise, but he said them slowly, as if there was something heavy about them. Jayne had to admit he was doing a pretty good job.

"Simon, don't be ridiculous. We have discussed this before. It is time for us to heal what has been broken in this family. River is of age, and we are only too pleased that we can present her with such an excellent prospect." Gabriel gave Hawmauth a smarmy kind of smile, but there was something in his voice that indicated sudden uncertainty, as he too threw Inara and Kaylee a puzzled look.

Simon in turn made a rather dramatic show of studying Hawmauth. The man had something of a ratty look about him: Smallish, balding, and with a long nose and one of those little beards that had no 'tash, Jayne couldn't remember what they were called, just looked like grey fuzz that had got stuck beneath his lower lip.

"You have been fully informed as to River's condition?" The Doc enquired.

'Nara surprised the hell out of them by giggling girlishly before Hawmauth had a chance to reply.

"Oh honey, don' call it that, 'sounds all kinds a wrong, like she's up the spout." There was another giggle, this time from both Inara and Kaylee, and Jayne had to bite the inside of his mouth not to snort at Inara's accent and high pitched, slightly-out-of-it voice. Mal was visibly doing something similar.

"Well, she's not pregnant as far as I am aware. I was referring to her… mental state."

There was a quirk of concern at the first part of his statement from all three of the concerned parties, but once again, before Hawmauth had a chance to speak, a little giggle sounded, this time from Jayne's immediate left.

"He likes her broken, thinks it will make her compliant. 'Likes her young, too, and wants her to call him 'Daddy'. "No, Daddy." "Please stop, Daddy." "It hurts, Daddy.""

She wore that serene little smile of hers, which, considering what she had just said, seriously damaged Jayne's calm. The Doc, too, seemed to have a hard time to keep his face all flat and inebriated looking.

"I,… I…, that is preposterous, I have no such…" Finally getting a chance to speak, the poncy git wasted it by stuttering. When he finally recovered, he went straight for the bait:

"I am a gentleman, you can be certain I know what that implies… However, there is the small issue of you noting that your sister is not pregnant 'as far as you are aware'."

Gabriel was quick to speak:

"I can assure you, all medical data indicates…"

The Doc interrupted with an expression of complete disregard on his face:

"Well, that data is from about a year ago, I don't make it a habit to check my sister's privates on a regular basis, and medically speaking, once a year is sufficient. I know for a fact that the data is no longer accurate, I'm merely not aware of whether River is pregnant or not. However, considering her diligent use of contraceptives, I would assume not."

Jayne took his cue and slowly traced his hand down River's right arm, whispering a little too loudly:

"Ain't the only thing yer _diligent_ about, baby girl." Then went and gave her his best dirty grin. She, in turn, leaned into his touch, tilted her head towards him, and smiled sweetly.

The effect was immediate, Gabriel turned deathly pale and Hawmauth began to splutter something to the effect of: "Well… I never…"

Regan, however, remained stony faced, considered them for a moment and then gave them the most bone chilling little smile.

"Oh please, don't be so gullible, Dear. Mr Hawmauth, I am absolutely certain that this is an act. River has always had the most fastidious tastes, as a child she would not eat anything that was not to her exact hygienic specifications. She would not let that filthy ape anywhere near her, even if she only had half a brain, if you truly wanted us to believe that River has been morally corrupted, you should have picked a more suitable candidate." She looked altogether too smug for Jayne's liking. The insult of 'filthy ape' was nothing he hadn't heard before, but somehow he felt he needed to defend himself. He opened his mouth a few times, but for the life of him could not think of a single thing to say. Before anything came to mind, Crazy clapped her hands excitedly and called out "Show and tell, show and tell" and before he really had a chance to see what was coming, she had wedged her right knee on the chair beside his left leg, swung the other one over, and was straddling him. Within another two seconds she had placed both hands on the side of his face, tilted it slightly upwards and put her lips firmly on his. That was all dandy, Jayne even managed to suppress the tiny panicked protest in his chest and keep from shoving her away, but then she ever so gently reached out with her tongue, trailing it slowly over the firmly closed gap between his lips, as if asking for entrance very politely. When her request was denied, she let her hand slip to the back of Jayne's head, grasped the short hair at the nape of his neck firmly, and pulled. His head moved further backwards, and quite beyond his control, his mouth opened slightly as a small gasp of pain escaped him. Never one to let an enemy get away with even the smallest slip up, Crazy slipped her tongue past his lips.

That's when his big brain shut down and his little brain took over. He was marginally aware of the internal struggle as his hands reached out to grab her ass and he just managed to stop himself, leaving them hovering in mid air.

_Ain't right. Only a girl._

_But they 'xpect ya to touch her, ain't proper pretendin' ifn ya don'. _

_But she's too young, an' she's no ruttin' idea what she's doin'. Just … channelling, yea, that were the word, other people's… oh, Buddha, Jesu, and the Easter Bunny help him, what the ever beckonin' hell was the girl doin' with her tongue. _

Jayne Cobb could be called many things, and had been too, most of them rather colourful ones, but 'resistant to the whiles of women' certainly wasn't one of them. As River bit his lower lip gently, ground her hips down into his lap rather firmly and let out a breathy little moan, his inner struggle stopped. His hands found her ass and his last coherent thought was something along the lines of:

"Huh, well wouldya' looka' that, ain't all skin an' bones after all."

Grabbing her rather roughly, which just caused her to moan again, Jayne pulled River down firmly into his lap, where his John Thomas seemed eager to join the action. Fisting one hand in her long hair, he managed to tilt her back a little to allow him to regain at least some control of the situation. Shoving her against the edge of the table, he drew a little gasp of surprise from River as her back hit the solid wood. Seizing his opportunity, he took fierce possession of her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip as deep as it would go, biting her lips in the process. She wasn't complaining, simply holding on for dear life and getting a nip in edgeways wherever possible.

A perfectly accented and pitched "Oh my!" from Inara's direction brought him back to his senses. Leaning back in his chair and taking Crazy with him, he pushed her slightly to at least disconnect their mouths. She was all flushed and panting, but that serene smile was back on her face. His own breath was coming in gasps and his mind was still all fogged up, so that when she leaned forward, placed a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose and whispered:

"Grey hat, brown waste-coat, over at the bar. He drinks away all the money, no shoes for the little ones. He beats her too." He looked at her like a complete fool and grunted:

"Huh?"

Crazy just got up, ignored all the stares at the table, and amble over to the bar, calling over her shoulder:

"Show and tell is thirsty work, her lips are burning, need to be put out."

Jayne gazed around the table, still a little woozy in the head. He noted that both Mal and Simon's jaws were tightly clenched, presumably to keep them from doing what Gabriel Tam's was, namely opening and closing in quick succession. Regan looked like she was about to throw up, and Tristan Hawmauth looked like he was ready to shoot someone.

The last thought snapped him back to attention.

The Doc seemed to catch himself at the same time, as he once again composed his face and practically drawled:

"Well, as I indicated earlier, I'm really not sure that it would be such a good idea to hand over River. You see, there are certain… complications…"

"This… this is… how? I mean… How could you let this happen?" Gabriel Tam practically glared at Simon.

"Oh please, as if I could stop her… or him for that matter." Here the Doc indicated Jayne, who gave the Tams and Ratty the best self-satisfied smirk he could muster.

"Besides, I do not have the time to baby-sit my mentally deranged sister, I have better things to do with my time."

At this Kaylee gave a happy little sigh, shoved her hand in the Doc's half open purple silk shirt and practically moaned:

"Don' you just, sweetie."

She followed the whole thing with a rather sloppy, overly wet looking kiss. Inara leaned in and gave the Doc a quick bite on the neck. He clearly had a hard time keeping from blushing, but he managed.

"This is unacceptable, this is just…" Regan still looked a little green around the mouth.

"You think so? Do you? Well, if you consider this unacceptable, just imagine what I consider it." Hawmauth had risen from his chair and slammed both hands on the table; his goons had stood moments later.

Again, taking his cue, Jayne turned to watch as River sidled up to a tallish man at the bar. He seemed a little on the wobbly side, but judging by the fact that there were three men ready to catch him, holding out arms and watching him attentively, Jayne concluded that River had chosen well.

"On the note of what ain't 'xeptable, 'scuse me a moment." As he got up, Jayne had to adjust his still partially excited John Thomas.

_Ain't the time to be bashful, just looks more convincin' that way._

For good measure he winked at Regan as he handled the family jewels and traced his lips with his tongue; she looked as if she would start retching at any moment.

The drunk in the grey hat now had his arm draped around River's shoulder, clearly as much for support as for any amorous advances he might have planned. When Jayne reached him, he clapped his hand down on the smaller man's back.

"You touchin' ma girl?"

"So what ifn I…" The drunk had turned around slowly, his words cut off when he found himself faced with the mountain of a man that was Jayne.

"He did, he did." River whined in a little girl voice.

To Jayne's satisfaction, the other three men had taken up position behind their drinking buddy, and from the corner of his eyes he noticed at least another five around the bar slowly standing up from their tables.

Inside his head he did a little happy dance; the girl sure knew how to pick 'em.

He landed the fist blow right on the drunk's chin, floored him in one. His friends weren't having any of that, and as two lunged for him, Jayne managed to throw the first in the direction of their table, right into the waiting arms of Mal, who grabbed him and shoved him backwards onto the wooden surface.

That was all it took, two of the five men dotted around the room went for Mal, who was intentionally sloppy and shoved one into Hawmauth's goons. It was glorious, the two lumps of brainless brawn joined the fight as if they had never heard the word 'set up' in their lives.

Regan had fled to the back of the bar with a terrified squeal, while Inara and Kaylee had likewise removed themselves, only marginally more gracefully.

Jayne was mostly kept busy with the five guys who had chosen him instead of Mal and the goons, but he managed to observe as the end bit of their plan worked out just shiny. Mal had managed to move his brawl towards Jayne's, and as fists were flying and Tam and Hawmauth were shouting from the edges, no-one paid attention to Zoë, who had intentionally remained silent for the entire previous exchange.

The little side-table had given way under the first shove it got in the early stages of the tussle, just as planned, depositing the bag with credits on the ground about a metre from the table. Zoë, now on the floor, retrieved the sack of counterfeit they had stored beneath her chair, crawled over to the bag, and executed the swap, then she crawled back, and sat back down, just in time to have one of the brawlers land in her lap. The man grinned at her suggestively and she decked him with one of her legendary right hooks. Giving a little shrug, Zoë dumped the limp man on the floor and joined the fun.

About time too. Mal had taken one of the five lads intent on turning Jayne's face to pulp off his hands, but four were still plenty. Zoë was kind enough to take another, and when the remaining three managed to get Jayne up against the bar, two of them grabbing an arm each and holding on like he were a bucking bronco so the third could get to work on Jayne's face, a smallish, combat-boot-clad foot flew past only millimetres from his nose and landed securely in the centre of the puncher's face. Jayne just dragged the other two forward, and managing to free his arms, grabbed their heads and sent them on a collision course. He heard the wet crack of at least one nose breaking.

Looking around the bar, noting that all their opponents were on the floor, or standing bent over clutching various parts of their anatomy, Jayne grinned over at Mal. The Captain, too, was holding his side, and his nose was bleeding. Jayne could feel something warm and salty running into his mouth and knew he had a split lip. Oh well, he'd had plenty, and he'd have plenty more.

"This… I am outraged… I, …." Hawmauth was fuming; he was staring at River like she were a poisonous snake. He clearly had more of an issue with the fact that the girl could handle herself in a tight spot, than with any possible sexin' she might have been doing.

Turning on his heel with an indignant, and frankly rather girly, "Humph!", Hawmauth stormed from the bar, picking his bag of – now fake – money off the floor, and was closely followed by his bulky goons.

"I cannot begin to express my disappointment, I…" Gabriel Tam shook his head, as he too turned away from them.

"Come along, Dear."

Turning one last time, he called out to Simon:

"Do not contact me in future… I no longer have children."

As they, too, left the Silver Moon, Simon mumbled:

"Who contacted who?"

As soon as they were out of earshot, Mal turned to Zoë:

"Did we get it?"

"Of course we did, Sir."

"Good." Jayne noted "Can I get ma share now, I fiercely need ta get maself some trim."

His comment earned him the expected looks of disgust, 'only problem was, there were looks of concern and worry too.


	4. Inara's Plan

**A/N: OK, I gave fair warning about things getting a little odd, and about introducing an OC… so here he is. I know that Zoë doesn't really share Mal's contempt for companions, but I reckon she would still not be too involved in all that high society reverence… so, I hope her slight slip of the tongue does not count as being ooc. In general I hope I did OK with Zoë, she usually doesn't talk too much so she is hard to pinpoint. **

**To rj steamboat: Thank you so much for pointing out my mistakes… believe it or not, I do know the difference between a plural and a singular Genitive case, all I can say in my defence is that the last chapter wanted out at breakneck speed, and that made me dumb. (I did check it twice, but… oh, heck, I dunno, shouldn't have let that slip me by… so thank you, it shall be fixed presently.)**

**And a general THANK YOU! to everyone who reviewed.**

**Translations:**

**Shen sheng jin se mu niu = holy golden cow (I have no idea about Mandarin syntax, this is from the online converter)**

**lao shi = teacher (I think I got this one wrong, since it is the noun and not the honorary address, oh well, you know what I mean, I hope)**

**Disclaimer:**

**I own nothing.**

A knot of apprehension formed in Zoë's stomach as Inara closed the hatch to the bridge and turned around to give her and the Captain one of those professional yet concerned looks she was so fond of.

_Now_ _what?_

Inara had offered everything from girly makeovers to the arrangement of a suitable companion, in her ill-advised attempts to help Zoë in her grieving process. She certainly hoped this was not another one of her friend's cock-eyed plans. She hated that composed expression of disappointment that always followed her inevitable refusals.

Malcolm looked a little on the dumbfounded side, and Zoë briefly hoped this might be one of those nothing-but-rim-planets-and-border-scum-clients arguments, but then remembered that Inara had indicated she needed to talk to both of them before closing the hatch.

"You are probably wondering why I've asked to speak with you in private." Her voice had that soft warmth she used when she anticipated not getting her way and would employ any tactic to make sure she got it anyways.

"What gave us away, was it the puzzled expressions?" Mal was leaning against the navigation console, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking none too pleased with the situation.

"Ifn this is another one of those plans of yours to get Zoë prettified or laid, I don't rightly see why I have to be part of this conversation again. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Any talk pertaining to female problems, childbirth, or Zoë makin' the two-headed beast with a man-whore, make me darn uncomfortable."

"I second the last one, Sir."

"No, …not Zoë this time."

"Oh, good! Should I be worried about the fact that you just made it sound like you're tryin' to get another member of my crew some sexin'?" The tension in Mal's arms visibly increased.

"Well…" Inara had the good grace to look a little flustered, she took a deep breath.

"At least hear me out before you have a fit or storm off. Zoë, you're always the rational one, I need you to help me with this, I need you both not to dismiss this out of hand… It's sort of about River."

A disgusted snort escaped Mal's lips and he pushed himself off the console, ready to march from the bridge.

"Mal, please… Zoë, help me with this." Inara turned from one to the other, her voice even, still composed enough to not allow the pleading in her eyes to reach all the way to her vocal cords.

"I'm sorry Inara, I really don't see how I can support this, I mean, first me, and now River, has it occurred to you that sex might not fix everythin'." Her own arms were now folded in front of her chest and she gave Inara a small scowl.

"Just hear me out. I'm not trying to fix her, it's just… well, you saw what happened at Greenleaf."

"Ifn you're trying to tell me that your plan involves Jayne, I swear on my muddy army boots I'll ask the doc to 'xamine your head." Mal looked positively furious.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mal! Of course it doesn't." The look of sheer disgust on her face was almost funny.

"There is a former apprentice of mine with whom I've stayed in close contact…"

"Oh no, not that again! I've gotta agree with Zoë here, I don't know why you have this idea rattelin' around in your brainpan that some companiony sexual healin' cures what ails ya, but you ain't getting my semi-crazed pilot a whore." Inara was so focused on her argument she didn't even flinch as Mal once again employed the w-word.

"Mal, just listen for once before you go off into one of your sermons of moral outrage. There was something there in River's behaviour on Greenleaf, we all saw it. The fact that she is using other people's emotions is one thing, but I don't think that's all there is to it. She's had her adolescence taken away from her, but somehow she's still managed to turn into a young woman. And just consider the fact that, should we ever have to deal with something similar to the whole matchmaking disaster that took place at the Silver Moon, her de facto lack of a hymen might actually come in handy."

Mal squirmed at the graphic description, while Inara took a few deep breaths, a fraction winded from her rather long and rushed little speech.

"What did I say about feminine problems?" he practically growled.

"Well, last time I checked, the act I was referring to regularly includes a man." Inara was starting to get that glint in her eyes that indicated she was staring to enjoy rubbing the Captain up the wrong way in that expertly manner only she had.

_Oh great, here we go again. 'Nothing like listening to two sexually frustrated people arguing about sex._

"And furthermore," Inara continued "exploring her own emotions in such an intimate way can only benefit River. She can grow from this in ways that…"

Once again not allowing her to finish, Mal gave a derisive laugh and grunted out:

"Did it ever occur to you that River might not want any o' this… and you know as well as I do that you can't make our little witch do nothin' she don't want to. Who's gonna go and rescue your precious man-whore when she decides she ain't liking his approach none?"

"Adain is highly trained, one of the most talented young men I have had the pleasure of…"

Mal simply snorted loudly and walked off the bridge, shutting the hatch behind him with just a little too much force.

"Zoë, please." Inara's voice was now imploring, as she turned from the closed hatch to focus her best persuasive glare on the older woman.

"You saw it too, didn't you? There were real physical responses there, and if what Simon says about her increased ability to filter out and perceive her own feelings and self-awareness, I really think that my idea would…"

"'Nara, honey, I know you mean well, just as you meant well when you bought me that infernal contraption…"

"It's called a vibrator." Inara supplied helpfully in a small voice.

"It ain't a vibrator ifn it has four prongs!... Never mind about that, I'm just glad Kaylee could use it to replace that do-hickey in the engine that broke. Back to what I were saying: River's brain is far too complicated a thing for us to go messin' with. You have no idea why she acted the way she did, she could really just be that good at pretendin', they're bound to have taught her some of that at that horrible place. And Jayne's her friend, she trusts him. You ain't been out on a job with us since that harpy Saf' tried to cross us again, you don't see 'em in action together."

"There is nothing romantic between them." Inara sounded almost defensive.

"Of course there ain't. Jayne's just Jayne and I reckon his brain ain't no match for his 'John Thomas', but he's been actin' awful sheepish as of late, so I 'spose he's feelin' bad about it. I'm just saying they've got a rather complex sort of relationship an' I'm all kinds of uncertain that she'd just let some friend of yours shove his tongue down her throat… never mind any other kind of shoving. It ain't the same thing."

Inara looked a little thoughtful at that. She was quiet for a few moments, then nodded and folded her hands in front of her rather primly.

"We can at least try. As a matter of fact, Adain was the one to contact me, he will be on Persephone in two weeks, and since we'll be there at the same time, I've already made arrangements to meet with him I've indicated that there might be the possibility of giving him passage to Shadow, so he might be with us for two weeks. No need to force anything." She looked a little guilty; as well she should, considering the fact that she had already arranged everything.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Zoë gave her friend a stern look.

"I don't want to burst your bubble or nothin', but how exactly are you goin' to explain this whole thing to Simon?" She felt a little smug, surely there was no way the doc would allow his sister…

"That's already taken care of. He was relatively easy to convince, all I had to do was present the whole thing in terms of neurological stimulus and list the possible benefits to River's mental health, and he agreed to at least let her meet him. I've got to say I'm impressed with the fact that he said it was River's decision. I think the fact that his parents tried to sell her off has made him consider her free will a bit more."

Zoë just stared at her, where she came from, this would be considered as all kinds of wrong. She had five brothers, if any one of them had ever heard her name mentioned in the same sentence as sex when she was nineteen… well, there would have been blood, and loose teeth, for sure.

"And you forget, Zoë, Simon is from a different social background, he does not share your misconceptions about my profession, he assigns a trained companion the respect he deserves. As a matter of fact, Adain only accepts female clients as a personal favour and it is a great honour…"

"Shen sheng jin se mu niu! Are you telling me you're getting' River a _sly_ wh… ahm, sorry… companion?"

This whole thing was beginning to make Zoë seriously uncomfortable. Then something else occurred to her:

"Were you going to contact that same companion for me?"

"No, of course not. As a matter of fact, a companion's sexual orientation is of no consequence. Our professional preferences don't always mirror our personal ones. To be honest with you, I don't know where Adain's preferences lie. However, I would have selected a more… ahm, well, distinctly masculine acquaintance for you. In River's case, I believe the less intimidating, the better."

At least three different arguments to the contrary popped into Zoe's head, but she chose to keep them to herself. No point in prolonging this any further, Inara had clearly set everything in motion already. Zoë smile wryly, imagining Mal's face when he met Inara's former student. Checking the auto-pilot was still engaged, she gave Inara a curt nod, and with a rather subdued:

"Well, I sure hope you know what you're doin'." She, too, left the bridge.

---

Inara hadn't been kidding about the not "distinctly masculine" thing. As a matter of fact, Zoë had a hard time imagining anyone less masculine than the young man who greeted them at their spot on the Eavesdown Docs. The first thing she noticed was his hair; the palest blonde she had ever seen in colour, it reached all the way down his back. He was wearing a pale blue, floor-length caftan embroidered with silver leaves and flowers. His lips were suspiciously shiny and the kohl around his eyes was not on the subtle side. His features were extraordinary, even without the make-up, Zoë would venture he was beautiful. Any girl would kill for his bone structure, and that was just it, he looked like a breathtakingly beautiful girl. It was only when Inara embraced him that Zoë realized his overall air of fragility and delicacy was a little deceiving, for he dwarfed the older woman and had to bend down considerably to place a reverential kiss on her forehead.

An odd grunt of confusion mixed with scorn came from Mal as he followed Inara down the ramp. Kaylee, Simon, River, and Jayne were under strict orders to remain inside. Inara had expressly forbidden the congregation of an ogling mob. So, in their official capacities of Captain, First Mate, and Former Teacher, it fell to Mal, Zoë, and Inara to welcome their new passenger.

"Well ifn you don' just look exactly how I would have pictured a male… _companion_." Mal wasted no time to throw around implied insults as he shook the younger man's hand.

"Mal, please, can you not behave for…" Inara began, embarrassment and anger clearly visible in the flush on her cheeks. The young man beside her gently place a hand on her shoulder, giving them a clear view of his immaculately manicured and silver polished nails and whispered:

"It's alright, lao shi, you gave me fair warning." His voice had the oddest quality of sounding both deep and yet bright with an intonation too soft and melodious for its timbre. The smile he gave Mal and Zoë made her squirm, it was all perfected warmth and gentleness and gave his features an even more ethereal quality, it did, however, not reach his bright green eyes.

Mal merely gave another derisive snort and noted rather gruffly: "You're aware we'll be chargin' for your passage to Shadow? I ain't complicit in Inara's creepefyin' little plan, an' I'll have no part in it. You're just a passenger, plain and simple, dong ma?"

"Certainly, Captain Reynolds."

There was that eerie-ass smile again.

**A/N: Reviews are all kinds of shiny.**


	5. On Bein' a Girl

**A/N: A lot of pondering in this one, there will be more action to come, I promise, but I do like me some character development and exploration… 'only hope you do too.**

**A big thank you for the reviews… which reminds me: all the "'"s in if'n are dedicated to SusanMarieS. (lol)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing… except Adain… but nobody cares about him…yet. (wow, go me with the optimism, you guys might never care, well, we'll see.)**

Jayne was lifting weights in the cargo bay while Crazy was dancing around just to his right, making the white dress she wore over some brown cargo pants swirl around her. She was wearing those big headphones Jayne had got her after that time on Whitefall, where yet another one of Mal's stupid ass plans had gone horribly wrong and she'd saved their hides. He remembered that day - it was about a year ago now - as clear as anything. He'd been shot in the shoulder, on his good side at that, and Vera had turned into a giant lump of useless metal in his hand, too heavy to be of any use to him in his injured state. And then he'd been shot again, this time in the chest. When he came to, Crazy was squatting next to him like a giant toad, the gun from her holster smoking and that creepy Reaver knife she'd insisted on keeping dripping with blood. She'd given him that smile then, the one that sort of came to mean "I've got your back" in the time between then and now, and had told him:

"Papa Bear is all red, but there is more inside, only the bad will flow out."

That was the first time she'd called him that, and he couldn't tell if it was because he was so weak and maybe a little crazy himself from the loss of blood, but as certain as anything he knew she'd just told him he'd be OK.

He'd bought her the headphones the next time they'd made landfall.

"So ya stop doing that creepefyin' thing where ya dance around and there ain't even any music playin'. 'S all kinds a' disturbin'" He'd told her, and she'd smiled all sweet like and said:

"Plenty of music in her head, but this is better. There is no indefinable value to the concerts in her mind."

He figured that was the moment when he decided that he didn't mind her being around so much anymore, that he wouldn't try to sell her out again, and maybe, just maybe, try and be a little nicer to her.

And now, as she was twirling and hopping about the place, contorting her tiny body in all manner of impossible ways, that secret little smile on her face that said she was happy, he felt all sorts of guilty.

He shouldn't have lost control like that, shouldn't have allowed himself to get all excited.

_Heck, if'n I'd known I even could get excited by a kid half ma age with titties no bigger 'an plums, I would'a gone an' got ma head 'xamined a long while back. 'Makes me no better 'an that slimy hun dan Hawmauth, in any case._

The whore he'd picked at the Silver Moon after the Tams and Ratty had scuttled off, had been a tall redhead, about his own age, and with a rack bigger than what could fill his large hands. He'd felt like a man then, not some sick bastard who liked little girls because he was too much of a coward to do it with a real woman. Because that was the only reason Jayne could imagine any man would like _that_ sort of thing.

But as much as he wanted that to be the end of the story, it wasn't. It wasn't as if he got a hard on every time Crazy danced into his field of vision, it wasn't even that he really thought on her that way, it was just that somehow his body remembered what had happened and wouldn't let his mind forget about it. His body had always been one stubborn son of a bitch, far too insistent on his pleasures for Jayne's liking.

He'd touched Crazy before, and all, on jobs, accidentally, or out of necessity. He'd had to lift her with one hand once, the other one keeping him balanced against a rock face, to get her to an outcrop just above them. Mal had gotten them stuck in a small canyon, no way out but up. So, with River being freakishly nimble and him being freakishly strong, he'd had to get her up there, standing on loose rubble, nothing to lift her with other than his right arm. And so his hand had been in the only place it could, her crotch. 'Hadn't mattered then, 'barely crossed his mind as to how inappropriate that might have been. He just pondered the fact of how good a team they made; her all brains and agility, and him all brawn and instinct.

It was after that that he'd taken to sometimes calling her 'River' in his head; never out loud, of course. Out loud she was always 'Crazy' or 'Moonbrain', or 'feng leh girl', but in his head she was something more. Jayne didn't easily respect people, he conjured that had a lot to do with the fact that there weren't many people around who warranted respect when he was growing up; so he'd come to assume that the world consisted entirely of people who tried to take all they could get for themselves, and hump the consequences, and those who were too weak or stupid to stop them. He'd decided pretty early on he was gonna be in the first group. Only Crazy… River had managed to sneak her way into his brainpan somehow, all quiet like.

They'd been on St. Albans that one time, trading bales of synthetic material for critter fur, and all hell had broken loose when the buyers decided to turn on each other and start shooting the gorramn hell out of one another. A stray bullet had grazed Mal, and the next thing they knew, they were right in there in that fight. And with Mal down, on account of him having lost the use of his shooting arm, and Zoe trying to drag him to cover, it was up to the Moonbrain and him to get all four of them out of there, back to the mule and onto Serenity. And then this hun dun had pointed his two shooter right at Jayne's head and he'd thought he was a goner; only in that hellishly fast way of hers, River had stepped right in and shot the bastard. 'Wasn't anything particularly unusual about that, she'd covered him plenty of times, only thing was, she'd stepped right into the path of the bullet to do it. Now, the slow-ass trader didn't get a chance to fire his gun, but that wasn't the point. She'd stepped between him and a loaded gun; and that _was_ the point.

He hadn't bought her anything, or said anything important to her, or told himself stuff all quiet like in his head. He just knew then, for certain this time; knew he'd never cross her again, knew he'd have to do his part to keep her safe 'same way she did for him, knew he'd not leave her behind… again.

And that had been it. He'd sit next to her at dinner the way he'd always done, only now he didn't mind no more when she nicked stuff off his plate. He'd train with her, and that was all kinds of interesting, 'girl was always good for a couple of surprises. He'd taught her how to track, showed her how to take care of her guns and knives, 'cause what was the use of someone having your back with a less than perfectly cared for weapon? And none of that bothered him much, as a matter of fact, it kind of made him feel all proud and almost fatherly.

And not once in all that gorramn time had he thought on her like _that_. He'd joke about it, the way he always had, the way he did with the other women on Serenity, but he didn't mean anything by it. Now Inara, that was a different story, there wasn't a man in the 'verse who wouldn't be thinking on her that way from time to time – unless he were sly, of course. Kaylee reminded him too much of his little sisters back home, so he never thought on her that way for too long, and Zoe, well, apart from the whole feeling sorry for her thing, she kinda scared him… just where the sexin' was concerned, of course; 'wasn't much out there in the 'verse that really scared Jayne Cobb, except perhaps Reavers,… and River's cooking. But even with all them inappropriate thoughts, the crew was the crew, and Crazy was his partner. If Jayne had had friends, she might even have been that. And he dimly remembered calling her that in Inara's shuttle, all flustered about the prospect about having to grope her. Granted, whether he liked it or not, the rest of the crew fell into the same category; even he had succumb to all that family go se after Miranda, but none of the others were around him that much, and if they were, they'd bug the heck out of him. River was just there, all quiet like when he wanted her to be, and crazy ass talkative, spouting her mad nonsense, when she knew he'd let her get away with it.

So there she was, dancing around, humming away to whatever the rutten hell she'd taken off the cortex and put on those headphones, and smiled away to herself like she were at a fancy shindig, and not in the cargo bay, where the evidence of their last consignment, a 20 head herd of sheep, still stained the metal grid in places. And the way his eyes kept focusing on all the wrong places on her little body, and the fact that he remembered the feel of her, all fragile and soft, but with just the right edge of sinewy muscle about her, made him feel all sorts of disquieted.

Now 'Nara had brought that fancy man-whore aboard, and all that was even more confounding. Jayne never minded no one being sly; Frank, a guy he ran with for over a year had been sly, tough as nails too, came on to him once and earned himself a bloody nose for it, but he'd been alright, Frank had. And at the end of the day it weren't no one's business what a body did between his own sheets… or any other place that might qualify as… convenient. What Jayne did mind was all that girly shit. All the sparkly clothes and beautifying things were good and fine on 'Nara, but far a fella to bother with them, and to smell all funny, talk even funnier and have that creepefyingly graceful way of moving… well, that was just all sorts of wrong.

Jayne tried to focus on the fact that 'Nara probably knew about these kinds of things, what with all the whoring, and the teaching how to whore all proper like; and he tried to focus even harder on the fact that it was a good thing that she'd found River someone who looked like he couldn't rough up a bug. Crazy was strong and all, but he supposed it couldn't hurt to get her someone who knew how to be real gentle like, after all the not so gentle treatment she'd received; the sissy boy sure looked as if he could handle that sort of thing. Jayne wouldn't know the first thing… not that he should be thinking along those lines… not that he really was… well, just…

He grunted in exasperation, masking it by placing the weights back on the brackets and mumbling a low "thirty", but Crazy was now standing right beside him, having done her sneaking thing again, and smiled sweetly at him.

"He's all dark inside… no color at all, just little bits left over from long ago… all dark,… and blood, and fury… more pain than her, nobody came to make it all better… so much anger and hate… but not for us." She gave him what was usually her reassuring smile, but Jayne hadn't the slightest' what she had just told him.

"Huh? What the blastin' heck 'you talkin' bout now?" He sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow and gave her his best scowl. "I ain't dark inside… an' I thought ya said I was red?"

"You are, silly." And with that she reached out and brushed her index finger across his lips, making him shiver, then swat her hand away so she wouldn't notice.

'_Course she'd notice, you stupid son of a bitch, ain't like she needs ta see it or nothin'. 'Don' know why she's still smilin' if'n she knows all the dirty things in yer head._

She didn't seem to mind him slapping her hand much, she never did, didn't break that smile once; she just sat down on the bench beside him, earning herself another scowl.

"They are like mother hens, all of them… pulling at her hair, prodding at her face… always fussing and always smiling… like it makes them happy… like they are excited for her. Emotional transferal and social obligations are like a heavy rock and she does not know if it keeps her from floating away from them or from sinking to the bottom of the sea." She'd stopped smiling now, her head was bent forward and her shoulders stooped. Jayne took a stab in the dark and ventured:

"You ain't got to do nothin' you don' want ta, dong ma?"

He must have gotten it right because she gave him that big blinding smile of hers that always made him feel as if he'd just won something and here was his prize. It didn't last long though:

"But she needs to be a girl." She said it all quiet like, her face sad and thoughtful, and he knew her well enough to understand what she meant by it. She would call herself a girl most days now, which was good, but sometimes, on the days when she made no sense at all, and the doc had to stick his needles into her, and you had to make darn sure not to get on the wrong side of her,… on those days she wasn't a girl… ' least not in her own head.

"I'm gonna tell ya what me ma used to always tell ma sisters, and you better listen, cause Ma Cobb is one wise old prairie harpy, you can trust on that: Sexin' don' make you nothin' different, don' make you a woman if'n you think you ain't one, don' make you prettier if'n you think you ain't… just makes ya a stupit little slut for sexin' someone just to be sommit you ain't and not cause ya like him and want to be sexin' him." River looked at him with an expression halfway between a frown and a smile, he wasn't right sure he knew what she was thinking.

"Sexin' 'Nara's 'prentice won't make you more of a girl 'an you already are, dong ma? 'An I know them all think you getting' all hot and bothered on Greenleaf means somethin', but only you know if'n it does."

"She does not know her own mind, she never does. But they know theirs, and minds are minds, so maybe they know hers? Maybe they can tell her who she is."

"Well if'n that ain't just the dumbest thing you've ever done said! What sort of feng leh logic's that s'posed ta be. Don' nobody know who I am but me, and I reckon that's d' same for everyone, even you. If'n those bastards what stuck them needles in ya brain've gone and made ya not know who ya are, then how come you love yer brother the way ya do? How come you've got all them friends here, who care 'bout you? How come ya smile like a fool every time I see ya up there on the bridge, starin' out into the Black and whisperin' to the gorramn boat like she's yer pet? If'n that ain't you, then who is it?"

In his head he added:

_And who was dumb enough to stand in front of that there blasted bullet if'n it weren't you?_

In her usual infuriating fashion of commenting only on what you didn't want her to hear, Crazy smiled brightly:

"She will not let anyone hurt Papa Bear, it's her job." Rolling his eyes in frustration and grunting, Jayne shook his head, but then realized that she had just given him an opening:

"What is? The not lettin' someone hurt me or hurtin' me yerself? 'Cause if'n I remember correctly, ye're freakishly attached ta cuttin' me open." He teased to get a little more of a response out of her. Sure enough, she gave him that little comical scowl of hers and huffed:

"He will not let that go! She misjudged the angle, pressure applied was disproportionate to the average energy that could have been exerted by the bones of the given length, and she simply meant to divest him of…"

"Ma shirt… yea, I know. Still, all the talk o' red…"

"She does like him in red, but he is always red. … She does not like that particular shade on him anymore, though."

He gave her his best grin, patted her on the head in the most patronizing fashion he could manage and said:

"Ya see, Crazy, that there's exactly what I've been talkin' about. Now if'n you don't know who ya are, then who just got pissed with me, and then all defensive, and then sort of told me she liked me?"

_Well, that came out kinda wrong, but shove it, weren't no big deal if'n she got the point. And she did._

There was that big smile again, made him all fuzzy and warm inside, and all kinds of disgusted with himself. Crazy jumped up, gave him a silly twirl and a… what was that called again, oh yea… a curtsy, and then bent forward and kissed him straight on his sweaty forehead.

"My affections for my Papa Bear are exponentially greater than expected, she will bear his words in mind. But she still must be a girl." She looked a little sadder at that, but didn't give him a chance to say anything else as she bounded away from him, up the stairs, and vanished in the direction of the common area.

_Well done Jayne, you stupid fucking son of a rabid dog, you've just gone and made yerself all manner o' more confused. _

Out loud he said:

"Shit!"

**A/N: Reviews are real shiny!**


	6. Just So

**A/N: Well. Not sure what to say, only got one review for the last chapter (even though that was wonderful, thank you so much Brandywine00, I really enjoyed our little chat.) I suppose this chapter is all or nothing, you can decide if you want me to keep going after this, since it's the first one to give you a glimpse of where I'm really going with the story. So, my 'ratings' have slipped massively… down form 5 reviews to one… might be time to pack it in and go back to Star Trek, tail between my legs… ah heck, you win some, you lose some. ;)**

**(Well, maybe you lot are just real quiet in general and I'm being an eejit, but as far as I'm aware, no reviews means no like. If I am, I apologize for being a needy cow, but hey, feedback is nice… it keeps you going, makes you grow… like fertilizer, so… ahm… fertilize me?... no, wait, what?)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing… only Adain.**

Adain wasn't pleased with the information that the girl was a Reader, not pleased at all. If Inara had only mentioned that little fact during one of their conversations over the cortex, he would never have thought to seek passage, would never have agreed to her request.

At the time, he had considered it a small matter, a task to be performed in order to procure a way to reach Shadow and stay under the radar, but that was no longer the way things stood. If the girl could read minds, could see every sordid thing he had done in his life, he had a serious problem on his hands.

He had reminded himself again and again that the crew of Serenity had their own issues with the Alliance, that they would be as likely to hand him over as he was to give himself up, but that didn't mean that a half crazed child couldn't slip up, couldn't ruin his carefully constructed reality with one wrong word.

He was no longer sure if he could even remember his real face, his own thoughts, he had been someone else, someone artificial and fabricated, had worn a skillfully crafted mask, for so long, he doubted he would be able to survive… naked and bared to the world, forced into be that boy again.

He had briefly considered doing away with the girl, trained Alliance assassin or not, he was resourceful enough to deal even with her, but he had decided against it.

As much as he was not permitted to form attachments, he owed Inara at least a certain amount of gratitude, of respect. Beyond that, he found it distasteful to kill without at least being able to delude himself into thinking that it was for the greater good. Killing River Tam would have been a precautionary measure, nothing else; and he decided to explore all other options before even so much as thinking about her demise again.

Then he'd met her, and had known two things almost instantaneously.

Firstly, that he was humped. The look on her face as she tilted her head to the side and studied him intently, told him everything he needed to know. She had seen it all; the revulsion, the pain, and above all else, the pity in her eyes, informed him that it was impossible to hide anything from her. So there he'd been: naked after all.

The second thing he knew, humped or not, was that he wouldn't kill her. She'd stepped closer to him, not away, risen on tip-toes, and had whispered in his ear:

"He is all broken too, worse than her, no color left, but his words are like lines, straight and obedient… he can make them see what he wants them to see. She cannot hide the jagged pieces, they show on the outside, but inside, him and her are the same. She was a good girl, she did not scream at the pictures in his head; she is stronger now. She will not tell what he must do, because he _will not_ hurt them."

The last part had sounded like a threat, and he had understood, had believed her, had smiled all sweetly and kissed the top of her head, just to keep up appearances.

"I am so pleased to meet you, River." He'd said it to the room rather than to her, what would have been the point, she already knew he wasn't pleased at all. She smiled at him, her face almost angelical in an expression of complete innocence, and with a start he realized that she was not faking that smile.

He took note of the stances of the men around her then; her brother, arms folded, shoulders tense, looked at him with an expression that was almost imploring; the Captain, his hands on his hips, looked marginally disgusted, the slight twitching of his hands as they grasped his belt, indicated that he would be ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, but there was resignation on his face too; and the big one, Cobb, his arms folded like her brother's, only with a lot more by the way of arms involved, looked as if he were about to throttle him. All of it spoke of protectiveness, of concern, of affection; and while Inara's stories indicated that this would be unwarranted in a physical altercation, she had also informed him that in a different type of physical activity, it wouldn't be. And River's smile had just proven them and Inara right.

River had her own pictures in her head, some perhaps almost as bad as his, he had gleaned as much from Inara, but she was innocent in many ways, untarnished, and she was wrong: inside, they were not the same at all.

---

Entering the mess, reflecting on just how complicated a predicament he'd gotten himself into; how careless he'd been not to consider the multiple difficulties a crew of seven could create, given all the references Inara had made to "diversity in the face of adversity" as she liked to put it, he was assessing his surroundings carefully now. The first mate, Zoë, was seated at the table reading a book, while the mechanic, Kaylee, was beside her, a look of frustrated eagerness on her face.

"I'm just sayin', it'd be fun, is all." The younger woman was rather unsuccessful at hiding the pleading with a thin veil of cheerfulness.

Zoë closed her book, leaving her hand between the pages to mark her spot, clearly indicating that she was not ready to abandon reading to acquiesce to whatever the other woman was suggesting. Giving her an exasperated, but patient look, she noted:

"I know full well that Inara put you up to this, I really 'preciate all yer effort… an' yer determination… Kaylee, it's been two years… have I at any moment since then indicated that my strict 'no' policy on girly sleepovers in Inara's shuttle has changed?... So, please Kaylee, for the love of the blasted 'verse, just let me read this here book and be the surly old hag that I am."

Thinking that neither woman had noticed him, Adain was about to make his way back towards his quarters, when the first mate addressed him:

"You must 'xcuse our little… disagreement. Please, come in, passengers have full use of the kitchen at all times." With that she stood, her hand still in her book and made her way towards the communal area, her movements controlled and precise in an almost painful manner.

The mechanic smiled at him brightly, even if there was an undertone of sadness there:

"Sorry bout' that, din' mean to make you uncomfortable or nothin'"

He gave her his practiced smile, then ever so slowly brushed his hair behind his left shoulder:

"Please, don't apologize, I am the one intruding here, I'll only make myself a cup of tea and then I'll be out of your way." He leaned forward, allowing the hair he'd just secured behind his back to fall forward again:

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

Her mouth had fallen open a little, and she was blinking frantically, that mixture of confusion and arousal on her face that he knew so well. She wouldn't be a problem. He'd seen the way she looked at that doctor of hers, all puppy love and adoration, but the poor girl had a fatal flaw: He'd noticed the way she'd looked at Inara, looked at him, looked at their clothes. Beauty was a bitch, and the poor little girl had no idea. She didn't want him in that way, he knew, but her sheer need to admire, her infatuation with shiny, sparkly, pretty things… meant that with very little effort, she'd do exactly as he told her; for wasn't that exactly what he was: a shiny, sparkly, pretty _thing_?

He wouldn't of course, he had no designs on any of the crew, but it was good to know, just in case.

"N-no, thank you… Ahm, I…I gotta get back to da engine room…got some…stuff…" He felt almost guilty, the poor little thing was spluttering so much. He smiled again, serene and calming this time, just the way Inara had taught him, and put that extra bit of depth into his voice, to make it soothing:

"Very well, Miss Kaylee, any time you would like some tea and a little chat, just let me know." He moved towards the small island, bending over the sink just so, and felt her eyes still on him as she retreated backwards towards the engine room and called out a rather mumbled:

"Bye now" before turning and almost running down the metal corridor.

Adain couldn't help but smile a little, not disdainfully, not pleased… just a bitter little smile all his own.

---

Just to test his boundaries, he made his way down to the common area, two cups of tea on a small tray in his hand. Sure enough, there on the small couch, legs curled beneath her, book open, was the first mate. She didn't glance up as he entered, but stiffened, abandoned her comfortable position and sat ramrod straight, placed her feet on the floor, the book in her lap, and told him without lifting her eyes off the page:

"If'n you've come to talk some soothing companiony go se at me, I can tell you now, it ain't gonna work."

Adain was a little taken aback, after her polite address earlier, he didn't quite expect her to be so sharp.

Falling back on the old game, he smiled serenely, even thought she was still not looking at him, and allowed it to color his voice as he said:

"I've brought you some tea, I thought you could use it. It's synthetic chamomile." At this she did look up… and glared.

_OK…_

Biting his lower lip and bending sideways to lengthen his neck and look up through his lashes, he offered her one of the cups. Tinting his voice with just the smallest fraction on a sigh he asked:

"You don't want it? There is oolong if you'd prefer that."

She was still glaring, but stood and reached across the low table to take the cup from him:  
"No, chamomile's just perfect, thank you." Her voice was clipped, a little abrupt. As she sat back down, assuming the exact same position as before, the controlled nature of her movements and the erect posture took recognizable form: former military.

A few years ago this realization would have made him smile another bitter little smile, a few years before that, it would have made him cry… and before that, well… he didn't think about before that.

Noting that she had returned to her book without so much as giving him a second thought, he decided to change tactics.

Allowing his features to soften even further, and letting his eyes go wide, he sank down on the chair just across from her and asked in a small voice tinged with just the right amount of childlike innocence:

"Have I done something to offend you?"

That seemed to do the trick. Her eyes shot up and the look she gave him was suddenly concerned:

"What?... No, I,… just, well… I'm sorry. Inara and Kaylee've been incessantly trying to cheer me up, with'n what, you don' even wanna know, and I assumed she'd sent you to either talk to me or… never mind, I apologize." She looked earnest, but still a little weary. Adain had to smile at this… genuinely smile.

"You thought she sent me to…?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but let the small grin on his face tell her that he knew what she had meant to say.

She laughed, short and harsh, and cut off almost immediately, her iron control back in place.

"'All sorts of stupid, that, huh?" She made an obvious show of studying him intently before looking at her hands and shrugging.

He didn't quite know what to say to that. He didn't even ponder what he thought of it exactly, instead he did something rather unusual for him, he addressed the truth:

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

Her eyes met his in the first genuine expression of approval he'd seen on her face. Zoë Washburn seemed to be a woman not much in favor of playing games… and all he had was games.

"I don't take to strangers easily. 'Best kinds of watchdogs are like that, 'don't let their guard down." She told him, holding his gaze, her dark eyes intent.

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, once again a little lost for words and becoming increasingly worried about such an unusual occurrence twice in the same conversation.

The irrational need to say something true suddenly overcame him. He wanted to give her something that wasn't a lie, wasn't pretence, so she'd understand that the choices weren't his to make, so she'd know he understood, at least in part. Looking at his own hands folded in his lap he said:

"If they try to cheer you up, it is simply because they don't understand. They've given you time and patience when you were too numb to appreciate it, and now they think it's time for you to get better, not realizing that now is the time for you to really hurt. I've seen grief before, if they haven't, then they don't know how it works. It's your turn to be patient with them… they love you enough to want you back, so you need to give them time to see that they'll get you back a little different… and a little later."

When he looked up, she was staring at him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. He honestly couldn't tell what expression he wore when he stood and fled the room.

---

He was sitting on his bed in his quarters, his head in his hands, still a little dazed from his monumental slip in composure, when a soft knock on his door made him look up.

Inara slid open the screen door and stuck her head into his room.

"Aidan, dear, it's time for your first appointment with River. I've prepared my shuttle for you, if you'd like to come and see if it's all to your specifications." She was all business and minute attention to detail now, just as she'd taught him to be. He smiled softly, both at her and at the thought that she had no idea to what use such lessons could be put.

"Thank you, lao shi."


	7. Indigo

**A/N: Wow, I feel really bad for having thrown a bit of a wobbler about reviews, but I do appreciate all the feedback, particularly stuff that gave me some ideas, even if it was just what to watch out for. (And for the record, I really did think people read but didn't like)**

**Now, this is another cryptic chapter… it being River's POV and all; I promise the next will be more straightforward, if a little dark, and the one after that will explain a lot, even if it's really dark.**

**So, a massive thank you for the reviews, unlawfully obtained or not.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly or Serenity. (only on DVD)**

She could taste the metal here, sharp and cool on her tongue, like the edge of a knife; she never had before, and could not taste it in any other part of the ship. Perhaps the absence of Inara's soft purples and deep lilacs made the shuttle colder, harder. Perhaps _he_ did. He had no colors, no sound, only fragments of what had once been there.

He was seated on the small couch, his legs crossed, his eyes like the surface of a frozen lake, smaller hands than his were now frantically scraping against it from below; but his eyes were deceiving, they were only green like moss on the surface, beneath, there was the soft but constant trickle of blood… his own, theirs… it did not matter, had not mattered to him for a long time now.

They came unbidden, as they always did… faces, full of hate, full of malice, full of things she couldn't understand, and never wanted to. The Universe was infinite in its complexities, knowledge beyond what a single mind could feasibly hold within its folds, she had once wanted it all, wanted to be the first to find a way to contain all of it… no more.

Now, all she wanted was to be a girl… but he never wanted to be a boy again. Sometimes he pretended to be both, half boy, half girl… to make them weak, to make them trusting… only so he could be something else entirely.

Nerve endings, blood vessels, bone density, muscle tissue… all categorized in his mind like rivers and mountain ranges on a well used map.

"Won't you sit down, River?" He pointed at emptiness beside him… not so very different from the place where his color should be.

She merely stood, unmoving… finding Kaylee's yellow and her bells, finding Simon's silvery blue further away, Papa Bear's deep red just beyond the closed door, below in the cargo bay; She cradled them to her, willing them to keep her there, as if they could protect her from the almost endless darkness that was his mind. It had not been this bad the first time she had met him, the presence of the others had filled the void.

She shook her head… and then could not stop it from doing so, a compulsive loop of no-no-no-no.

"I won't hurt you, I simply would like to talk to you… you do not need to be afraid of me."

"She isn't afraid of him, but of what is not there… empty inside, like her."

He merely nodded, then was quiet for a moment that stretched uncomfortably at its edges.

"I'm sorry that I frighten you." The truth felt foreign on his tongue, she knew it didn't live there.

River rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated huff:

"She said she isn't afraid of _him_." She had crossed her arms and was now glaring at him. To her surprise, he laughed.

"I am glad to hear it. I wonder should I be afraid of you? Have a seat, River, please." He did not expect an answer to his question as he merely pointed to the spot again. She understood that his reasons for fearing her were more complex than he was willing to discuss.

Unexpectedly, she complied with his request and sank into the seat beside him. Close up, she detected the slightest hint of dark indigo blue, one tiny scrap, all alone, left behind and abandoned… but _there_; it made her smile.

"Now, that's much better, isn't it?" His lips smiled, but his eyes did not, still:

"Yes it is." Three words, all small, all in a line; proud, she smiled a little more.

And there was a spark of something real in his eyes: pity, perhaps compassion, … perhaps merely condescension, it was too faint to tell.

"River, you do know that you don't have to do anything you don't want to? I'm simply here to help you, you understand that, don't you?"

She was startled by her own laugh; she could tell that he was too.

"She knows, Papa Bear told her… but she has to be a girl… has to not be what they made her. Sometimes she frightens Kaylee, and Simon is worried, always worried, infinite explanations with infinite resolutions, all involving sacrifice and loss… she has to be a _real_ girl."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and she saw that he was weighing two options in his mind: familiar, soothing falsehoods, intent only to calm her, or that strange beast, released so very rarely, too often lately: truth. He chose the latter and she felt oddly honored.

"You'll never not be what they made you, River. There is no way of undoing certain things, but you can try to embrace what you are."

"Like him?" she asked, making the effort to wrangle her words into submission once more, since he had allowed the strange beast out to play.

"No, not like me, River… never like me."

And the strange beast shivered, not accustomed to so much freedom , it glared at her, his eyes full of uncertainty and confusion, wondering where his liberator was, knowing that it was not her. River wanted to soothe him, wanted to tell him everything would be well. She placed a hand tentatively on Adain's shoulder and told him instead:

"There is a little left… it's the prettiest shade of blue she has ever seen. It grows when he lets him play; he's been inside for too long."

His expression remained unchanged, the same soft smile, the same perfectly held posture, but the smallest flicker of fear sailed across dark emptiness within:

"I'm sorry, River, I don't understand."

She shook her head, smiled encouragingly, and told him:  
"It is too early for him to understand; he will in time."

There was another moment of silence where the edge of time expanded beyond the simple pleasant lull of conversation, and River gave Adain a small questioning look… it was easier than to battle her brain to allow the words 'now what?' to exit her mouth.

"Tell me what happened at the Silver Moon, River." He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward and poured some tea. Handing her a cup, he smiled serenely, one slender tendril of the smile reaching his left eye.

"He knows. Inara told him everything… spoke of confusion and disgust, of inappropriateness, the need to redirect the mating urges into more suitable…"

"That's not what I meant, dear; what happened to you? What did it feel like?" His expression was patient, not prying.

"She…she played her part… she pretended that her oxytocin levels, her estrogen and adrenalin production…"

"River, sweetheart…" He'd taken hold of both her hands, gently, carefully, intent on not startling her. His hands were warm, oddly soft, no other man she knew had hands like this - Simon had once had, but no more - only two small calluses at the base of his thumbs played traitor, no matter the care he took.

"… can you try and show me?" He leaned back a little, making room for her.

She frowned, confused and strangely uncomfortable, noting that those feelings were part of what he sought to elicit. She shrugged, crawled closer to him and climbed into his lap. He gave a soft, startled "hm?", and she felt something akin to smugness for having managed to invert his expectations.

She focused intently on the emotions she had channeled that day, straddling Papa Bear's lap, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to Adain's.

Soft and warm. The artificial scent of flowers, hiding something woodier, something real, beneath. No tickle of course hair. No scraping of teeth. For the sake of authenticity, she slid her tongue into his mouth, he complied by meeting it with his own. He tasted so very different, all clean and slightly sweet, nothing like the mixture of bad whiskey and cheap cigars, nothing like hot reds and urgency. He carefully placed his hands on the back of her head, guiding it to the side, deepened the kiss for a moment, and then pulled away.

"Well?" His smile was almost a grin.

"'Not the same." Her voice was small, she sounded baffled, somewhat confused, even to her own ears.

He threw his head back and laughed, bells in his voice, but not real ones like Kaylee's, underneath, there was a small rumble, tinted with his scrap of indigo blue.

She frowned.

---

As soon as the shuttle doors opened, the cloud of emotions emitting from various places just around the cargo bay enveloped her like a thick fog. Kaylee and Inara were leaning on the railings just across from her, Zoe and Captain Daddy behind them in the entrance towards the communal areas, less obtrusive, but equally concerned. Simon fidgeting, his hands clasping and unclasping, was standing in the open door to the infirmary. Jayne was below in the cargo bay, endlessly readjusting his weights, taking off a disc, then putting it back on, in a futile show of focused activity.

When she descended the small ladder leading form the shuttle and became visible to the others, they were all aflutter with hiding their interest. Inara and Kaylee rushed back towards where Captain Daddy and Zoe had ducked out of view. Simon hurried back into the infirmary, pointlessly picking up and setting down random instruments. Papa Bear turned around his own axis twice, before dropping down on the bench with a groan of embarrassed frustration.

River smiled at the odd mixture of pride and concern coming from Inara, her long veils of purple reaching out towards her as if they longed to embrace her in a comforting hug. Kaylee's yellow glowed almost golden, dancing excitedly as her little world allowed for nothing but happy experiences in her imagination. Zoe and Captain Daddy were both subtle and subdued; she a dark emerald, he almost all brown and no orange.

Simon and Jayne were a riot. Her brother spikes of silver, worry and determination making his blue so pale it was almost white, Jayne changing from electric orange to deepest burgundy so quickly he nearly made her nauseous, guilt warping into concern, warping into anger, warping into fear, warping into that deep burgundy she could now give a name to.

She chose the long way back to the common area, down the steps, across the cargo bay, and back up, rather than across. She paused briefly as she passed Jayne, gave him a tentative smile, and quickly bent down to where he was almost scowling up at her from his horizontal position on the bench, and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, course hair scratching her lips pleasantly. As she moved on, to where her brother had now abandoned his pointless analysis of inanimate objects, Simon rushed forward, hand outstretched and mouth open, but she simply waved him off, smiled sweetly and shook her head.

Jayne was sitting up by now, staring after her, all the reds swirling even faster.

As she passed the huddle of the other four, who had been frantically whispering before she'd stepped through the hatch, they too looked as if they were intent on speaking. Again she shook her head, allowing the roiling mass of confused colors wash over her without allowing them to sink in.

She smiled, not letting the confusion and uncertainty make a home in her expression, focusing entirely on their good intentions.

---

She came to treasure her meetings with him, came to understand that her broken pieces and his were not the same, but that the knowledge of the other's fragmented self seemed to hold some clues as to how to put herself back together again. He could not see this, of course, could not see the tiny scrap of blue; thought of himself as nothing but the cracks between the shards of the boy he mourned deep inside.

But the blue grew. It was not her that made it do so, but she loved watching it all the same, loved the tiny piece swell, begin to glow and change in shade, begin to form tiny sparks of brightest silver. She was glad he could not see it, she thought it might frighten him in a way that he believed nothing could ever frighten him again.

He was growing something to lose.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, one of Kaylee's romance novels open on the table before her while Adain was brushing her hair, winding sections into complicated braids, and mumbling something about apprentice training and odd fetishes.

As she knew he would, Jayne stormed into the galley without so much as a sideways glance, clearly willing himself not to look at the two of them. Adain made an exaggerated show of pulling up all her hair, then letting it all slide through his fingers to fall around her face in a fluffed up curtain. Just to round it all off, Adain gave a soft little sigh and River tilted her head sideways and up, smiling at him sweetly and doing her best not to let her features slide into a smirk.

Jayne's head had involuntarily snapped in their direction, he'd taken a sharp audible breath, scowled fiercely, then had grabbed a pouch of apple flavored protein flakes and had stormed out of the room with an angry growl, nodding the most discourteous goodbye to both of them, leaving behind a thick cloud of angry scarlet, shot through everywhere with the deepest shade of wine.

Adain snorted with something akin to disdain and River turned and slapped him lightly on the arm:

"Be nice." She admonished him, but could not help but smile, feeling somehow rather pleased.

She had intended it as a small remark, but the odd contrast of such a small word on Adain's perception of himself cause his shards of blue to shrink and darken.

"He is concerned about what he must do." She told him.

"River, I've told you already, I'm not willing to discuss this. I understand that you know regardless, but sharing this sort of information is always only going to be involuntary on my part, dong ma?"

She continued unperturbed, ignoring the slight purple glow as red anger mixed with the darkish blue of one of his indigo shards.

"He is concerned because his mark has been so successful at deception, because he must do things he would not normally choose to do… but a traitor does not deserve to go quietly, he must go clothed in the garment of his crimes, must go in a coat of blood."

"Are you agreeing with me or are you merely telling me what I am thinking?" He sounded calm, the way he usually did, only the faintest glimmer of purple now remained.

"She does only know one traitor, and Captain Daddy has already punished him for her. Also, he was contrite with apples. And now she has complex and unexpectedly intense emotions for him." She informed Adain.

"Ah. Why am I not surprised?"

Whether he was referring to her merely voicing his own thoughts or the fact that Jayne had once betrayed her, she was not entirely certain about. His mind indicated that it was an amalgamation of both.

"Captain Daddy will not be pleased." She changed the subject. "He is one of those deceived."

Adain merely nodded and gave a small, non-committal grunt.


	8. Not Right

**A/N: I'm dancing on the precipice of the age rating here, and will tell you now that the next chapter will be rated M.**

**I know that a lot of you are wondering exactly where I'm going with this fic, and I have to admit that it is not as tightly plotted, as I would like. There are scenes from lots of different places in my head, but no properly linear progression has presented itself as of yet. There are some pieces to come that will be really dark and pensive, and some that are downright infantile in their preposterous plotlines (one is like something out of Japanese porn); I wished I could control them, but they have a mind of their own. There is an underlying plot, but there are also lots of smaller story arches, some of which are, and some of which are not connected to it. I may have bitten off more than I can chew here, what with four different POVs and all, but I'll keep going regardless… (I'm enjoying myself, and if you are too, well, then all the better)**

**If you've stayed with me this long, and are not adverse to the whole OC thing, I can promise you that the next chapter (as in, the one after this one) will answer most of your questions about Adain.**

**Disclaimer: I own Adain… that's it.**

She felt sorely tempted to turn on her heel and sneak away from the entrance to the common area when she spotted him curled up on the couch, reading what looked like a fabric bound report. The small twitch of his head, not really a lift at all, told her that he had noticed her, and she overcame the rather irrational impulse to flee, and stepped into the room.

Slowly, almost languidly, he shut his reading material and slipped it into a leather pouch beneath the small, low table right in front of him.

"Zoë, how nice of you to join me again." He looked up and gave her that odd little smile of his, all sugar and daisies, only she never quite bought it.

She winced inwardly; they'd run into each other far too often over the past week, and somehow he had always managed to involve her in conversation, and then he had always managed to drag things out of her, and mostly she'd ended up crying.

_Weren't like her to cry. Weren't normal. Had ta have some reasoning behind it, some planned effort… and she'd come up with a pretty good notion: Inara had gone and got River a man-whore, and her a therapist, an' all in the one package. Ain't that just dandy?_

A soft little laugh from the couch brought her back to the present.

"If you are that displeased to see me, you could just have left, no need to stand there and scowl at me as if I'm something unpleasant you've found on the sole of your boot." His smile was still calm and sweet, but his eyes looked a little hurt… which was odd, since his eyes usually didn't look much of anything.

She just stood up a little straighter, folded her arms in front of her chest and gave him a hard look:

"I was considerin' it, but I might as well take the bull by the horns… Is Inara payin' ya to talk to me, or is it just a favour… like sexin' River?"

The ensuing laugh startled her a little.

"You like the world around you just so, don't you Zoë? Everything in its place, neatly labelled?" There was a tiny glint in his eyes now; it was downright disturbing.

"I don' much care for fake concern." She told him. "I know Inara put you up to this, all that pretendin' to know just what I'm goin' through, all that there gentlin' me into talking so as it feels like it were my idea to begin with… like I'm a skittish mare, or some such… I don't 'preciate deception, Adain." Her arms had tensed around her as she'd spoken; she now pressed her lips into a firm line.

He sat up, every movement graceful and easy, as if it had been choreographed, and folded his hands in his lap, then looked up at her rather intently.

"I've received no payment from Inara, she is my honoured teacher; anything I can do for her, I will do freely. I have furthermore received neither instructions to 'sex' River, nor to deceive you, is that clear? I do not pretend to know what you're going through, and I never said I did… we've talked, and I thought we had a certain understanding of each other, but if all that you saw in those conversations, was my not entirely voluntary attempt to analyse you…" He broke off. His voice had not wavered for a moment, his face had given nothing away beyond the faintest glint of irritation, or perhaps disappointment; but he'd averted his eyes halfway through his speech and she couldn't be entirely sure which of the two it was. He was now studying his hands, the faintest of pouts on his slightly sparkly lips. She knew that some of this was part of his little-boy-routine, the one he'd figured out worked on her, but there was something more to it; she'd actually hurt him a little.

_Damn him!_

With a loud sigh, Zoë dropped into the large padded chair and bent forward so she could look up at his face from across the low table.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was softer than she'd intended, but at least it made him look up.

"You can be very cruel."

_He had her on the floor, and now he was kickin' her, great!_

"You think that people who are paid for things they shouldn't be… in your opinion… have nothing to give away for free. I find that a little harsh, coming from a smuggler and a thief. Are you incapable of obeying any rules, simply because you break some?"

"Don't start with that philosophical go se again, I already done said I was sorry." Her voice was still all soft; that bothered her.

He was quiet for a moment, and she caught him looking at her in a rather peculiar way; then he cleared his throat and told her, his voice now real soft too:

"I've not deceived you, Zoë, not to the best of my ability." She thought the phrasing was odd; and the look he still gave her had now turned somehow pleading, it was faintly creepefying. Uncomfortable, and at a loss as how to answer, she changed the subject:

"So, when we land in a few hours, you'll take right off to see that there client of yours… won't River be upset?… I don' much understand the workings of these sortsa things, but it don't seem right to me to set a young girl up with a fellow who's gonna run as per agreement… And your client's a man, ain't he? I don't know, if'n I were River, I'd find that all sorts of confusing. 'First time I ever had a thing with a boy, I at least thought he liked me… and I thought I liked him… seems all simple and naïve, by comparison now, o'course..." She knew she was rambling, just talking for the sake of it, trying to make the awkwardness go away, but simply making it worse.

She cursed him silently for a second time; here she was, woman of few words, ranting again.

His serenely sweet smile had returned, and his eyes had gone dead again; Zoë almost sighed with relief.

"I'm not running; I have an appointment, that's all. Furthermore, everyone is so fond of making assumptions…"

"Don' hurt her, I don't care for whatever big fancy words you wanna throw around… all I care 'bout in this is River, dong ma?" She'd blurted it out, interrupting him and surprising herself by the sheer force of it. Shaking her head and feeling a little sheepish, she smiled wryly:

"You've got a way of crawlin' under people's skin. I ain't never told anyone half the stuff I done told you 'bout Wash an' me. 'Bout how I ain't as strong as they all think I am, 'bout how I pretend to be holdin' up, so as not to scare 'em. 'Bout the guilt an' how I should've loved him more… loved him better… ain't even told Mal that, an' he's my best friend, Captain or not. But River's different, she won't understand if'n…" She stopped as he stood from the couch and moved towards her. Startled, she sat up a little straighter, willing herself not to shrink back in her seat.

_Ain't that just the dumbest thing, I ain't scared of him, why'd I want to get away so bad?_

He came to stand right beside her, leaned forward and placed his hand on the side of her face. The skin of his palm was dry and warm, but Zoë felt a shiver run down her spine.

"I promise you, I won't hurt River." With that he took his hand away, picked his bag off the floor, and left the common area. Zoë released the breath she'd been unwittingly holding.

_Ain't scared o' him. But somethin' ain't right… somethin' sure ain't right._

***

They'd done jobs for Sandersen before, so they knew what to expect.

Good old Marty Sandersen had gone and got himself rich after the war; hard to believe, given that he'd been such a god-awful screw-up in the army. Zoë had never cared for the man overly much… 'twitchy' was how she used to think of him, little button eyes too, always made her thing of some small furry animal, deep underground.

Now, of course, the grand Mr Sandersen was altogether too good for their likes, sent them jobs every once in a while like they were scraps off his kitchen table. Met them briefly, in that gaudy monstrosity he liked to call a home, and then had his middleman arrange things with them. She was sure today would be no exception.

As she was adjusting her leg holster, waiting for the ramp to fully descend. Adain stopped in the spot right next to where she was standing, River trailing right behind him. She could not help but give him a little frown, but he merely smiled, sweetly and serenely. River leaned over towards him and whispered:

"While others take the front, he will have to take the back entrance."

Zoë's head snapped up, she gave the younger woman her best admonishing glare and told her:

"River, don't be crude."

Adain burst into a small fit of laughter, unexpectedly deep, and cut off before it could reach full volume; still smiling, he shook his head at Zoë, his eyes showing genuine amusement.

Muttering quiet curses to herself, Zoë moved over to Mal and Jayne on the mule.

"'You comin', River?" Her tone was harsher than she would have liked, but the girl merely danced over to her, a big grin firmly planted on her face.

She took her seat at the steering next to Mal, while River climbed in the back with Jayne, plonking herself down right beside him, which earned her a growl and a half-hearted and decidedly ineffective swat. Zoë wasn't entirely sure what to think of that, but had other things to worry about as the ramp finally made contact with the ground and a pompous looking little hovercraft became visible beyond, Marty's little pretentious coat of arms painted on the side, already waiting for them.

"Ain't that somethin', we got a ride." Mal intoned, sounding more dubious than surprised.

"Not for us." River's voice still held that grin.

Adain gave them a lofty little wave as he descended the ramp, his long tunic billowing in the air as he approached the small craft, and made straight for the grim looking man in a chauffeurs uniform beside it.

"Well, I'll be damned." This time, Mal did sound surprised.

---

The meeting went as expected; Sandersen was curt and vaguely distracted, the way he usually was, he wouldn't meet Mal's eyes, again, as usual, but somehow Zoë couldn't help but wonder if he were not merely in a rush to get to his 'other appointment' as he had called it, clearly unaware of any of the transport arrangements made for his contracted companion, and of the fact that they knew exactly what his 'appointment' entailed.

Two minutes of rather patronising platitudes involving the words 'good times, good times', and Sandersen left them with his standard line of "I'll leave Charlton here to discuss the boring details with ya, make sure to get some grub before ya leave." His attempts of hiding his outer rim breeding woefully inadequate at disguising his accent. As he left the room, Zoë could not help but observe quite how big he'd become since the war. Never a man to deny himself the pleasures in life…

_Clearly_

… he'd always been one to watch with the rations, to watch with the young women, and apparently, would have been one to watch with the young men too, if they'd known. Even during the few minutes he had deigned to spend with them, he had sweated profusely, and the mental image of just what may lie hidden beneath that bright red coat and pale green slacks, made Zoë's stomach turn.

_Ain't enough cashy money in the 'verse for that._

Zoë shuddered.

Charlton was precise and efficient, the way he always was, listing all possible complications, which, again, no surprises there, were not many; Sandersen's jobs tended to be uncomplicated, straight-forward, well-paid. Zoë hated to admit it, but she didn't much care for Snadersen's kind of jobs, even though you'd have to shove a rattlesnake down her pants for her to ever admit as much to Mal. There always was a sense of charity about them, and she could never figure out why.

They took good ol' Marty by his word and raided his kitchen; which was only fair, seeing as the man had not spent more than five minutes in conversation with either Mal or Zoë in the eight years since the war. And besides that, hadn't he made it big enough to have his own orchard and polycarbon tunnel? Wasn't that part of the reason the place was guarded like an Alliance bank? So, no point in wasting perfectly good fresh food.

Zoë was in the process of slicing up the first mango she'd seen in years, when a shrill cry echoed towards them from the corridor leading to the living quarters. A middle-aged woman, both hands firmly in her hair, tugging and clawing at her scalp as if her life depended on it, stumbled into the kitchen a few moments later. She looked so distraught, Zoë rose from the table to approach her, but she merely wailed, lifting her hands form her hair to hold them out in a gesture that could have been defensive or pleading, Zoë wasn't sure, her attention was diverted by the fact that the woman's hands were covered in blood, her hair slightly damp and glossy where she had touched it. Within seconds both Mal and Jayne were on their feet too.

"Aw heck, we'd better get the hell outta here."

_Trust Jayne to come up with that by way of a solution._

Mal had inched closer to the woman, standing to Zoë's right now, and held out his own hands in a soothing gesture, telling her quietly:

"Shush, now, 's alright, tell us what's wrong. What happened? 'S alright."

The woman - Zoë remembered her now, she was Sandersen's housekeeper - merely shook her head, slowly, over and over, and muttered in Mandarin:

"Xueye… xueye… daochu… xueye." All the while staring at her feet, not lifting her eyes once.

"Ok, that's it, I'm outta here." River had to put a restraining arm on Jayne to keep him from heading out the back door into the garden.

Zoë turned to the woman:

"Can you show us?" But she merely stood there, still shaking her head, and repeated, this time in English:

"Blood… everywhere."

There was the distinct clatter of multiple pairs of boots from the end of the corridor, and throwing a quick glance at the other three, Zoë followed the sound and headed for the living quarters. Mal was right behind her, River followed, leading a mildly protesting Jayne by the hand as if he were a small child.

"Ain't natural to run _towards_ lotsa blood, 's all 'm sayin. An' weren't us who done it or nothin'."

They'd had to climb two flights of stairs when they finally reached the spot that appeared the centre of the commotion. There were two security officers stationed at either side of a double set of doors, heavy gold plated things, carved with fancy artwork. Two women were leaning against the far wall, sobbing and wailing in a manner that made Zoë think of bad Juchang*; the bright pinks and orange of their clothes indicated that they were concubines.

_That'n would explain the fake wailin'_

As they approached, the two guards made a half-hearted attempt to stop them, but Zoë noticed that they were both young and looked scared senseless; ckearly they'd been left to stand guard outside because they couldn't handle whatever it was they'd seen in there. Offering little resistance, they let Zoë pass, the other three still at her back, following slowly.

The housekeeper had been right; there was blood everywhere. It took a while to get a clear idea of what it was she was looking at, what with at least five guards now moving around the opulently furnished bedroom, Charlton retching over by the window, and Reymos, Sandersen's valet, whimpering like a frightened puppy in one corner. There were long smudges of blood, all the way from the open window, where Charlton was doubled over, to a large puddle of it on the floor; in the centre of which were Sandersen and Adain. Marty was stretched out on his back, his head cradled in Adain's lap, who was kneeling, sobbing uncontrollably, but facing away from her and blocking her view of Sandersen's body. As she moved forward, she had so suck in a sharp breath; most of the blood must be Sandersen's, his entire torso was sliced open, at least five deep gaping wounds showing part of his insides; he was no longer breathing. Adain, dressed in a rather flimsy silk kimono, torn in places, his brilliantly white skin almost glowing in the dim light of the room, had long gashes on both arms, as if he'd tried to shield himself with his hands raised. The pool of blood was beginning to soak into the silk fabric of Adain's pale blue kimono, but he seemed not to notice, as his fingers, dripping with his own blood, traced cryptic little patterns on Sandersen's cheeks. River stepped forward and crouched beside the two men and studied Sandersen's exposed lungs and guts. Zoë expected her to say something comforting to the young man still shaking with the violence of his sobs, instead she noted in that dry tone of hers:

"Sometimes he was ashamed… when he thought of the little ones, sometimes he felt guilty… but not very often, mostly he had what can be traded, can be bought, to chase those thoughts away." She was leaning forward now, too intent on her observation of the body to notice that a tendril of her hair had descended within a few millimetres of a gaping wound, still pooling blood. Before the hair could dip into the liquid, however, River was forcefully hauled off her feet, lifted over Jayne's shoulder and carried out of the room.

The look on his face was half disgust and half concern, but he disguised them well by telling her:

"Won' be feedin' on the fallen today, lil' harpy." His voice only held the merest of trembles, and Zoë knew that he too had taken in just how brutal the attack on Sandersen must have been, to leave wounds like that.

Looking around the room once more and noting that there clearly was no-one else for the job but her, Zoë sank down on her knees beside Adain and put one hand on his back, stroking slowly and rhythmically, her callused fingers catching on the delicate silk and the fine soft strands of his hair from time to time.

"Hush, now… It's alright, hush now, little one." She gently reached out her other hand to tug at his injured arms, careful not to hurt him any further. With a shuddering breath he dropped Marty's head, which hit the floor with a soft thud, and turned his body into hers, wrapping his long arms around her and burying his face in her neck. She rocked them both backwards and forwards gently, as the guards seized the opportunity to lift the body and place it on a stretcher already waiting for it.

At a complete loss as to what else to do, Zoë began to sing quietly under her breath, one of those half forgotten songs of her childhood, something about buttercups and wild hares. Adain's breath was hot on her neck, his sobs had stopped, and his lips were moving against the bit of skin where her neck met her shoulder, he was mumbling:

"Thank you." So softly only she could hear.

"'S that mean we ain't got a job no more?" Jayne's voice form the door had regained some of his usual dim swagger.

*Juchang: Travelling theatre, popular in the outer rim. The actors are little better than prostitutes in a talent show, many of them can be engaged for a 'private viewing' after the performance; the material covered usually involves a damsel in distress or a strapping hero. The word has become synonymous with bad acting**. (a/n: I totally made that up.)**

**A/N: Reviews are all kinds of shiny.**


	9. Adain

**A/N: OK, and this is the point where you all decide that this has gone too far and that I'm a complete psycho. Sorry.**

**All I have to say is that there will be more Rayne in the next chapter.**

**Warning: This is now rated M… and for a reason, dark themes and adult situations, people.**

**Disclaimer: I own Adain, … nothing else. **

It hadn't been his usual kind of job; too messy, too visceral, too likely to draw attention. He would use brute force in his dealings with guards and underlings on a regular basis, they were the sort of victims on whose bodies cuts and bruises would not be questioned in the same way they would be on any of his proper marks.

He liked slow, unpredictable, untraceable… he mostly worked with poison; most of his kind did.

But Sandersen had called for something different; something that would not go unnoticed the way his usual jobs did. His marks died of 'heart attacks', 'strokes', or 'sleep induced asphyxiation'. Adain was good with poison; and what did it matter in the end, as long as they were dead?

Not so in Sandersen's case; his instructions had been clear: "send a message"; and he had.

He'd let him fuck him first, too, just to allow himself to drag up that dark bloody lump of a memory, to let it fuel him, to take away any pity or humanity that might be left deep inside him.

Sandersen had not been directly involved in the attack on Adain's home, had not been one of the men to break down the door, murder the servants, drag his mother, his two baby sisters and himself into the large dining room to repeatedly rape all four of them on the newly polished mahogany table. The smell of lavender and lemon made him retch to this very day.

His sister Ella had been thirteen, Sara merely eleven; neither of the two had survived the ordeal. He and his mother had… in a manner of speaking.

He'd been sixteen, old enough to fight, yet he hadn't been taken outside and shot with the other men; he could still hear their words: "pretty like a girl… 't be a waste".

They'd been mercenaries, army drags, specially selected for the job.

Sandersen had not been directly involved, none of the big shots had; they'd simply signed the papers, passed around information, infiltrated the household, planned and plotted, set everything in motion, waited for the opportune moment.

His father had been a great man, a man of convictions, of integrity, a man who inspired fierce allegiance in his men. General Warren had been core educated, influential and wealthy, and when the Alliance had made a claim on Shadow, he'd done the honourable thing, and had put everything on the line to side with the Separatists. It was what was best for the people, personal wealth and influence be damned.

And so he'd returned form a briefing to find his son, bleeding and sobbing, hunched over the dead bodies of his two daughters, when he'd made his way to his and his wife's room, he'd found her hanging from one of the old fashioned ceiling beams she'd instead upon when they'd planned the house; Sara had not even been born then. He'd taken his rifle and had shot himself; apparently one broken child had not been enough to keep him in this 'verse.

Three days later Serenity Valley had fallen. Sandersen had been a good little mole and had passed on vital strategic information, had done his bit. With the Separatist Army headless and in disarray, the Alliance's victory had been little more than a final nail in the coffin.

One of his father's oldest servants had found him, crazed and half starved, a week after the incident. The old man had been stationed at Serenity, awaiting his father's return, when things had fallen apart, he'd come to bury the dead. What he'd found was worse, what he'd found was Adain.

He'd done the only thing he could think of under the circumstances, he'd passed him on to a Companion House on Shion.

He'd mended slowly, never healed. The shame he felt at being violated was nothing in comparison to the shame of not having been able to protect his sisters. They'd done this, not because it was necessary, because it was part of winning the war, they'd done it simply because they could.

He found out about the Underground soon after, found out that while the Alliance might have won one war, that there would be others; and this had given him the strength to stay alive.

There were a few like him, most of them women; Companion's who were trained and recruited in order to do the Underground's dirty work. The Alliance liked their assassins to be fervent believers, the Underground liked them with nothing left to lose, at the end of the day, it mattered little, where there was a war, there was need for their kind.

One of the others had asked him once why he took male clients, considering what had happened to him. He'd simply laughed at her.

How odd to think that she'd feel better if he'd chosen female clients, thereby choosing female marks, as if having _real_ sex with someone before killing them was actually less disturbing.

And so he'd let Sandersen fuck him, his sweaty belly and piggy grunts doing quite nicely by way of stoking his rage. He'd had ground support of course, had everything set up, so before he'd allowed the darkness to swallow him whole, he'd kicked Sandersen off him and lunged for his bag, 'carelessly' left beside the bed. He's chosen his weapons carefully for today: his father's short army dagger and a longer, curved blade he'd taken off the wall of one of his more prestigious marks. He'd dropped one of them… oh how careless, and had allowed the panting and completely dazed Sandersen to take a few swipes at him. The man had been so useless, he'd had to meet the blade halfway by extending his arms, making sure the gashes would look realistic enough. The flabby arms of the other man did not really have enough strength to cut deep… so much the better. He'd wrestled the blade back out of the fat man's hands and had allowed his memories to engulf him.

He'd never told him his name, never informed him of why he had to die the way he did… at least the second he was sure he knew. He'd simply roared his anger and fury as he'd sliced him open like the stuffed pig that he was. When it was done, he'd collapsed, sobbing in earnest.

Reymos was first to arrive. He made short work of the blood trail to the window, the outside evidence already set up by Mrs Lee, who joined them a few moments later.

"You alright?" She looked at him rather quizzically, as if she thought he was a rather sorry excuse for an assassin, but he nodded. This had been part of the plan, you cannot fake mental shock like this, and he had his own little supply handy whenever he needed it. This way they could test him, and he'd come up clean.

"We're ready. I'll start the alarm." She simply told him as she carelessly dipped her hands in the pool of blood. Raymos threw their fabric bound brief into the flames inside the gaudy fireplace, the frolicking nymphs carved there, taking on a sinister quality as the paper burst into bright oranges and reds.

The room was milling within a matter of minutes, odd to think that there had been so much noise before but nobody had seamed to care. Then Adain remembered that little detail in the brief that told him Sandersen like to make them scream, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He still had not been able to stop his sobbing, his fingers were tracing patterns on Sandersen's cheeks and it took him a moment to realise that they were letters:

"E…L…L…A……S…A…R…A……E…L…L…A" over and over again.

Suddenly River was there. Looking at his handy-work, then back at him, she gave him the answer to the second question:

"Sometimes he felt guilt." He'd known why he'd died, maybe had even known who he was.

And then River was gone, carried off by her mercenary.

Adain did not like mercenaries, but he was able to tell the difference between the kind who'd broken into their home, and the kind now bouncing River off his shoulder… but still.

And then _she_ was there, all solid strength and earthy smells, and she soothed him, wrapped her arms around him and sang to him. And the darkness fell away; just like that.

***

He woke in the infirmary, his arms bandaged, weaves in place. This too was according to plan, he'd known they wouldn't leave him behind, would take him back to Persephone with them. None of them would question his involvement in Sandersen's death, well… nobody except River, and she wouldn't really question anything; she'd simply know.

Simon was beside him now, speaking soothing words, injecting another dose of whatever it was that kept his thoughts nicely muffled. Looking over to his other side he saw Zoë, book in hand, looking like she had been caught, clearly not comfortable with him knowing that she hadn't left his side. He smiled. She looked startled.

He closed his eyes again; when he awoke a second time he was alone and in his quarters.

He sat up carefully, noting the rather odd little thumping in his head, and tested whether his legs would carry him. Apparently they would. He slipped on one of his more substantial robes and made his way to the showers.

He never really felt clean anymore, but hot water soothed his mind. He relaxed into the heat, allowing the tension to ease out of his muscles, taking a few deep breaths. It was just as well not all jobs went like this one; he doubted he'd be able to handle it.

Making his way back from the shower, he decided some tea might do him the world of good, and not having encountered any of the crew so far, he jumped a little when he found Zoë sitting at the kitchen table, her rifle laid out in pieces before her.

"What ya doin' up so late? Ya should be restin'" She told him. Shaking his head, he indicated that he had no idea what time it was.

"Why are you up, then?" He moved over to the stove, beginning preparations.

"'Couldn't sleep." She told him in a way that made him think she'd just shared some special secret with him. So he asked:

"Does that happen a lot?"

She simply snorted and shrugged.

"That's a yes then… Wash?" He asked it gently, like he was worried he might scare her back into those fortified walls of hers.

That was the thing about Zoë, all the loss in her life had made her strong, hard, tough, not broken like him, but solid. She must have been that way long before Wash found her, all strength and no give. That's why she liked him like a child, helpless and scared; it was the only way she could allow herself to be just a little bit soft. Maybe that had been why she'd allowed Wash in, from what the others had told him he was, on first glance, nothing but an overgrown boy. He'd never known anyone like Zoë, she hadn't built walls around an ever more fragile core, she'd solidified inwards, layers so thick it became hard for her to see herself, never mind allow others to do so. He'd manipulated her into letting him in, he knew that, but after that first conversation, the one where he'd been overwhelmed by his need not to lie to her, he'd become greedy, wanting to poke further, wanting to scratch at that first solid layer of hers, to see what precious stones had formed beneath.

He was not a fool. He did not have urges the way nature had intended, too many memories clouding his instincts, but he was not ignorant to the fact that Zoë's presence had a very simple effect on him, one he'd almost forgotten about, not thinking himself capable of it any longer.

And some of it was complicated; like her pain and her overwhelming will-power in the face of it, fascinating him in a way he couldn't quite place, as if she had something he wanted to possess, as if she could somehow make him less broken by extending that tiny granule of softness cased in all that strength towards him.

And some of it was so very simple; like the fact that she was beautiful, in ways he could not quite describe, so very different from that fragile ethereal quality he possessed himself, all warmth and force, where he was grace and elegance. And the fact that she had granted him glimpses into her soul, stolen from her by his deceptions and lies, made him giddy with joy and furious with self-loathing.

She looked at him then, that clear and honest quality in her eyes, and he knew she was weak now, allowing him to see it again, and he wanted to smile and cry all at the same time.

"Not really, just thinkin' on all the things that are out there, ready to hurt n' maim an'… the kind that got Wash are just one of 'em…." She trailed off, looking around her as if she could see through the metal walls, counting her charges, her family.

'I'm one of those things' he thought 'but I won't hurt them, I promise.'

He slid into the seat next to her, placing a cup between the barrel and part of the trigger mechanism before her. He could smell her scent, remembered how it had brought him back to sanity a few days before.

"So you stand guard?" He asked, and then reached out to stroke his hand over the soft curls of her hair, expecting her to push him away. She merely took a deep breath and shook her head:

"Dumb, huh?"

"No."

And he knew she only allowed him to touch her because she thought he was weak, and hurt, because he had somehow managed to fool her into thinking that he was another one of her little ones, needing her protection, needing her strength. He knew that she was only comfortable around him because she thought he would not judge her because he needed her too much, depended upon her. And he knew it was more lies and deceptions, but he did not care. He leaned forward and placed his lips on hers, half wanting her to pull back in revulsion.

But she didn't, she opened her mouth just the smallest bit, and when the taste of her mingled with her scent and that tiny little moan she gave, part shock, part guilt, part need, he abandoned all rational thought, pulled her off her chair and into his lap, and deepened the kiss.

He knew what a pity fuck was, and he knew without the shadow of a doubt that that was what she thought they were doing. He wasn't certain if she was clear about who pitied whom, but he knew that that would be her way of rationalising it in the morning. But he didn't pity her, and the frantic way her hands were clawing at his robe and tangling in his hair, sure didn't make it seem like she had only tender comfort on her mind.

She moaned low in her throat when he kissed her neck, gently bit the skin where it met her shoulder, feeling the tendons tense beneath his teeth. His robe was open by now, and she had the definite advantage where clothing was concerned, so he shoved the pieces of her gun off the table, teacup clattering to the floor in the process, lifted her onto the wooden surface, and forced her to lie back. This way he'd get better access at her laced up waistcoat. She leaned back on her elbows, looking up at him, and he hurried to capture her lips again, just so she wouldn't be able to look at him and change her mind.

Her fingers were gently scraping his scalp as he undid her waistcoat and shirt, he was a little too rough with her undergarment and it tore, but she simply gave a small whimper as the piece of clothing fell away an left her breasts bare. He kissed the small dip at the bottom of her throat first, making his way down towards the swell of her breasts slowly, gently, intent on not startling her, but when he took her left nipple in his mouth, allowing his tongue to tease it, she gave a low little growl and a sigh. She needed this just as much as he did.

He moved higher again, kissing her mouth while working on her britches, his tongue gliding over hers and making him shudder, but he had to focus, no time to lose now. They were both breathing heavily, and when he pulled down her trousers and her remaining underwear and spread her legs, he should have asked her if she was sure, if she really wanted this, only he didn't, he knew what the answer would be, he couldn't allow her to think now. So, he'd held her steady, there beneath him, put himself into position and had pushed inside; and she'd given a cry like an wounded animal, equal parts blissful relief and guilt.

He was rough with her, his own need to feel, and taste her, to forget himself, leave this shivering mess that was his mind behind, took over, but she didn't seem to mind, her low little cries of pleasure echoed off the mess walls and her pants ghosted over his damp skin. He licked the sweat off her shoulder and sank his teeth into her soft flesh, this time hard enough to break the skin. She growled slightly and raked her hands down his back.

When she began to shiver and he knew she was close, he grabbed her wrists, held them to the table above her head and thrust even harder, her cries began to bleed into each other, and when she arched off the wooden surface with one final moan, her heat and softness clenching around him, he followed her into oblivion, giving his own cry of release deep in the back of this throat.

They lay there, panting, stunned, not looking at each other. He stood first, grabbed his robe and put it on. She sat up, breathtaking in her dishevelled beauty, and opened her mouth to speak. He raised his hand to stop her; he knew the question already.

He could not bear to hear her ask if Inara had paid for this, so he left her there, on the kitchen table; when all he wanted to do was crawl inside her and stay there forever.

**A/N: I'm still practicing writing smut, (hey, apparently they give out awards for worst sex in proper published fiction) so feedback would be really welcome. Well, if you people aren't too busy shaking your heads going "sick, man, that's just sick…"**


	10. Herbs and Flowers

**A/N: OK, as promised… and 'cause this is how the story goes, more Rayne. Since the rating has now officially gone up, I thought you wouldn't mind a few more definite signs of Jayne's predicament. **

**Anyways, thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter; I'm glad I didn't scare everyone off.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, Serenity, or any of the characters of either/both.**

Inara's man-whore left them on Persephone, and try as he might, Jayne couldn't shake a certain sense of relief. There had just been something odd about the fellow, and it wasn't just the girly crap; something just hadn't smelt right, and it had nothing to do with the fact that pretty boy had been sexing River,… nothing at all to do with that.

Moonbrain herself had been acting all weird, too; not how Jayne had expected her to act. She didn't seem particularly upset when Adain left; but then, of course, she had told him:

"He's leaving more behind than he knows, so he must return."

Pretty boy had looked all serious and a tad confused, and then had nodded at her, as if he sort of knew what she was jabbering on about, but not quite.

That was another thing that never seemed quite right about Inara's man-whore: all that weird and secretive mumbo jumbo that went on between River and him, like he somehow understood most of the stuff she was saying. That really didn't sit too well with Jayne; he wasn't entirely sure why that should bother him… well, he had a notion,… but he wasn't too comfortable thinking about that,… and…

_Ah, heck,… girl's trying to kill me._

And that was the other thing: He was sitting at the kitchen table, sharpening Boo, mulling all this go se over, and in waltzes Crazy, giving him the biggest rutten smile ever, leans over him and kisses him on the head, like he's some damn teddy or something.

He growled at her then, trying to land at least a small slap on her arm, but she'd already danced out of his reach, still smiling.

She'd been like that, ever since she came out of Inara's shuttle that first time she'd had a… session with that pretty boy: all touchy feely, and all smiley, and all…

Jayne grunted to himself in exasperation, taking his frustration out on Boo and the whetstone, and the next thing he knew, Crazy had plonked herself down in the chair next to him… her chair, where she always sat… was leaning her chin on one hand, elbow on the table, and was smiling up at him… apparently just for the hell of it.

"What?" It didn't come out quite as gruff as he'd wanted it to.

"He likes Boo, why is he killing her?"

He paused, stared down at the knife, sharp edge at least a few millimetres closer to the back of her than 10 minutes ago, and cursed under his breath.

"What is it, Crazy? What'd ya want?" He managed to put a little more menace into his tone this time, but still not quite enough for his liking.

"That is a complex and multi-dimensional question… she wants a variety of things, but I doubt he concerns himself with all of them. Is he asking about the current situation?"

"Aw, heck, Crazy! What'd ya want from me?" He was a little mad now. She'd leaned into him while she was speaking, and her hair was brushing his arm, and the smell of her shampoo was in his nose, and he wasn't comfortable at all with that look she was giving him.

"That's also a rather complex and multi-dimensional question." She told him, her smile becoming less pronounced, but somehow much more unnerving.

"Crazy, if'n you don't start talkin' sense, I…"

That's as far as he got, because Crazy was leaning into him, pressing her lips to his, and making a little purring noise in the back of her throat. His mind went completely foggy, and the next thing he knew, she was in his lap… again.

He gave a start when he realised what was happening, grabbed her around the waste, and deposited her on the table, took a step back, his chair clattering behind him and nearly making him stumble, and managed to channel his confusion and fury into a rather loud:

"Crazy, what the hell?"

She just looked up at him, giggling slightly and said:

"Table."

"What?" His mouth had dropped open; his mind was still trying to process what had just happened.

"Shhhhhh, it's a secret." She was still giggling.

Jayne shook his head, trying to clear the confusion, but he wasn't quite there yet, when something else took over his thoughts.

"You think cause your man-whore's gone, an' there ain't no other fellow to oblige ya, you've gotta mess with me?"

_What the gorramn hell had that pretty boy done ta her ta make her that des'pret? 'Heard o' girls what are real keen on sexin', but ain't even a week since that fella left, an' she's alredy act'n like that._

"Barely started sexin' an you gotta go for anythin' ya can get? Now you list'n here, Crazy, I ain't int'rested in no lil' girl, dong ma? An' I don' have many morals, if'n you will, but I ain't sick in that way,…" He trailed off, a little lost as to how to go on. She was leaning back on the table, looking up at him with that odd little smile, her cheeks a little flushed, and Jayne had to swallow, _hard_.

"She's not a little girl, and he knows it. And her relationship with Adain is an amiable and deep one, but it is entirely devoid of the actions you implied."

"What?" He'd barely been able to focus on what she was saying, she'd bitten her lower lip somewhere in the middle of her speech, and his focus had slipped.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, in that way of hers that told him he was being stupid.

"Friends, not lovers. Platonic expressions of affection, devoid of any sexual undertones." She smiled again, then reached out with one booted leg, and gently stroked up the outside of his left thigh. Jayne practically jumped back and glared at her.

"Stop that! Ain't right… an what'd ya mean, no sexual… whatever. I done seen him brush your hair with ma own eyes." He'd folded his arms in front of his chest, and they were by now squeezed so closely together and against his torso, it almost hurt.

"He does not like her hair as much as Jayne does. He made her realise her feelings for Papa Bear, so she had to test his theory… she was very happy when Jayne was bright red and burgundy."

She smiled brightly again, all innocent and sweet, and some of her words sunk in.

"You didn'… I mean, with… ya know?"

She shook her head, rather enthusiastically, making her hair fly around her face to settle it in dark waves over her shoulders. She pulled her legs up onto the table, kneeled, her thighs apart, and looked at him with a serious expression and tilted her head to one side:

"He wants her too."

Jayne backed up another two steps, and promptly collided with the wall. Cursing, he spun and practically ran for the hatch, for his bunk.

The soft tapping sound of her boots on the metal grid of the corridor alerted him to the fact that River was right behind him, he turned to glare at her, practically forcing himself to tell her:

"Now you listen here, this ain't right, dong ma. I might want all sortsa things, don' mean I'm gonna get em. An' this ain't happening, ya hear. My John Thomas might have all kinds of notions about ya', but that don' mean my bain don' work no more. I'm old enough to be yer pa, an' I ain't too good with bein' all… ahm…. appropriate and such. You should'a sexed that pretty boy Inara got ya, cause he woulda…." Jayne was shaking with a mixture of anger, frustration and a couple of other emotions he wasn't too keen on examining just then.

"He's an inappropriate partner for her."

"That's what ah'm sayin'!"

"Not him, the broken boy; she is not strong enough to make him whole, and he is not strong enough to make her real. And he used to be blue and silver, maybe will be so again, just like Simon… only darker, more blue… never a boob." She'd crossed her own arms in front of her chest now, and gave Jayne a disgusted little sneer.

"What? You ain't weak, and neiter's he for that matter, I'ain't paid for nothin', he's almost as tall as myself, holdin' himself like a frail little thing when he ain't…" He was desperate now for some sort of distraction, anything to divert his mind from the things River was implying,… was offering.

"Only he and Zoë noticed." Her voice was soft, appreciative. "My Jayne's instincts are like the point of a needle." She smiled softly, then took a few steps towards him. Then she tapped her forehead lightly and told him:

"Strong here."

He snorted in fake amusement:

"An' what? Ya think I'm strong in da head?... I ain't never even finished schoolin', can't say I saw much point to it, an'…" He'd completely forgotten to keep moving away from her, and she'd managed to step right up to him, and with very little effort, had risen on the tips of her toes and had put a soft little kiss on his chin.

Jayne sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and almost stumbled backwards.

"No!… just … No!... An' I ain't yours!" With that he continued on his way, the soft clicking behind him once more, so that he spun and told her with the utmost conviction:

"No!... Stay!" like she were a dog.

She looked at him with those big sad brown eyes, but made no move to follow him, so he managed to get to his bunk, lock the hatch, and sit heavily on his bead, before he allowed himself to exhale slowly.

_What the rutten hell jus' happened?... An if'n she never did nothin' with the man-whore, how'd she even know how ta look at a fella like that?... An' how'd she know how ta spread her lil' legs on that gorramn table jus' like that?... An how….?_

Jayne fell back on his bed with a groan. His girls, both of the hard metal and the paper and ink variety, were looking down at him; only problem was, they didn't quite manage to calm him the way they usually did. He groaned again, then gave a derisive snort.

_Jayne Cobb, the Hero of Canton, runnin' from a 19 year old girl like she were a horde o' Reavers… someone oughtta write a song 'bout that._

---

He didn't go to dinner that evening, told Mal he wasn't feeling well when he enquired via the com. He did, however, sneak out later to grab a snack… he may have been seriously perturbed by Crazy throwing herself at him, but a body still had to eat. Tearing into a protein bar, making his way to the cargo bay for a late night therapy workout, he stumble upon Zoë in the common area. As usual, she was reading. She looked up briefly, and gave him a short:

"Hey Jayne, 'you alright, you weren't at dinner?"

He just grunted around a mouth full of protein and shrugged.

"Eloquent today, ain't we?"

She got a frown for that. He swallowed, then felt sheepish just standing there, so he set down across the low table form her and enquired:

"How come you're up, it's the middle o' the night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Jayne snorted at that.

_Yea, that makes two o' us._

"Huh?"

He just shook his head and took another bite from his protein bar. Glancing over at Zoë, who was, once again, deep in her book, he noticed that she didn't look too well, tired, and a little ruffled, like she had more worries than she usually did. But he wasn't really the kind to bring that sort of thing up, so he just sat there a little longer, finished with one last bite, then made his way to the cargo bay.

On second thought, he came back and gave her a grumbled:

"Night, Zoë."

She looked up, a little surprised, and answered:

"Night, Jayne."

He noticed that the lights in the common area stayed on for the entire time that he was lifting weights; they went out only after he'd gotten up and cleared away the equipment. He took a long shower, Mal and his water regulations be damned, and even managed to suppress the urge of touching himself while thinking of a certain someone.

His dreams, however, were a completely different matter. There, everything was dark brown hair and hazel eyes, the smell of her shampoo, the way her thighs had looked when she'd kneeled on that table, her dress riding up just that bit too far, and full of shoving her up against the wall and taking her hard and proper, and getting her to purr and moan for him again.

He woke, sweaty and hard, and had a good long debate with himself about how Jayne Cobb was not the type for self-denial; and sweet relief came with a massive side of guilt, because his mind wouldn't stop straying where he'd expressly told it not to go.

He paid for it the next morning, of course, when Moonbrain came to breakfast with a rather pleased little smile on her face.

He knew that smile all too well; she usually donned it just after handing him his ass on a plate during training.

To make matters worse, she leaned real close when she reached over for some of the fruit flavoured protein rolls Kaylee had made for breakfast, and there was that smell again, herbs and some type of flower, as her hair brushed his shoulder.

_Ta ma de, Crazy was going' to drive him mad!_

**A/N: Review's are shiny. **


	11. Don't Like Pretendin'

**A/N: I am soooooooooo sorry that this took so long. Life's been a total bitch, lots of crap happened, and I was sort of hiding in a hole for a while… but hey, I'm back on the horse… I hope. The second half was written a month after the first, so if it sucks, it's probably because I'm rusty. It is noticeably lighter, and I hope you don't mind that this is not as actiony as it could be… I had other things to cover.**

**worldShifter, who was my 300****th**** reviewer for Half and Half won a little prize… and it's in here. I offered to include any object of his/her (oops, should have asked about this) choosing in this chapter, but instead was asked to use an OC… so Josie is his/hers… I hope I didn't totally misrepresent her, I didn't have a lot to go by, so 'hope I did OK.**

**I probably don't deserve reviews anymore, but I could really use them at the moment, so if you can bring yourself to drop me a line, I would really appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly/Serenity or any of its characters.**

She'd slept even less over the past few weeks than she usually did. Reading or cleaning her weapons would not calm her the way it had always done in the past, so she often found herself wandering the slightly swaying catwalks above the cargo bay… round and round, like some caged animal, gone demented in its captivity and repeating the same motions over and over again, as if being stuck in a loop of a mere few minutes could remove her from time altogether.

Sometimes she'd run into River, the other ghost haunting the hallways and metal paths of Serenity at night. Sometimes they would talk; sometimes they would pass each other in almost reverent silence, as if their own little cocoon of privacy would be kept intact if only they did not speak.

Zoë knew that this was only an illusion; River did not always make sense to her, but she knew that she was an open book to River… somewhere over the course of the past two years this had stopped bothering her, and had simply become an inevitable fact, and as such did not warrant any opinion whether good or bad.

"It's like light shining from her centre." The girl told her one night, and Zoë had no idea what she was talking about, thinking that she felt anything _but _bright and shiny.

"She will understand in time." With that, River had walked away, frilly dress swishing backwards and forwards over her cut off britches and army boots.

Another time, when Zoë was just about ready to return to her quarters and give sleep another try, River had practically appeared out of nowhere next to her on the catwalk, had leaned forward and folded her arms on the metal railing, just as Zoë had done, and had stared down at the crates and equipment, her eyes unfocused.

"She knows… she just will not admit it to herself yet." And an odd little knot in Zoë's stomach had made her feel uncomfortable and somehow caught.

"And she misses him, and thinks she ought not to … because he's just a stranger, and because he's strange… but it doesn't matter to her as much as she thinks it should."

She contemplated feigning ignorance to that one, then sighed and noted:

"It ain't that simple, River. It matters less in some ways, but more in others, dong ma? I don't know anythin' about him, and I still can't shake the feelin' that there was somethin' just not quite right… and I never should'a…"

She had to laugh suddenly, remembering who she was talking to, and the sheer absurdity of having this conversation in the first place; but before she could apologise to River for talking about inappropriate stuff… not that it mattered, if it was in her head, River could read it… the younger woman gave a small exasperated sigh and leaned towards her:  
"Just like the others, she sees her like she was the day she came out of the crate, and sometimes she sees her the way she was when those doors slid open, but she never just _sees her._

No need to feel guilty or ashamed for the things in her head… the girl has seen other things in other heads… it makes no difference.

He's broken and she was fixing him, but now that he's gone, they are going to take away all the blue. If he knew all the things he's left, and if he understood just what she is to him…"

Here she sighed again, and Zoë, even though she wasn't too sure she actually knew what it was that River was babbling on about, felt like she was on the verge of tears.

_Gorramn lack of sleep is making me soft and weepy, that's just shiny._

She started getting sick first thing in the morning a few days later. Some of Rivers cryptic comments suddenly started to slip into place. A bitter chuckle escaped her, shaking her head, still leaning over her privy, she sat back on her heels and brought her hands to her face.

Eight months! Eight humpin' months Wash and her had been trying to get pregnant, and then some creepefying and not-quite-right man-whore had fucked her on the kitchen table late at night with the entire crew asleep just feet away, and now here she was…

---

They'd landed a pretty big job on Harvest, enough credits involved in the whole deal to make sure Serenity stayed in the air, and they all stayed fed for at least three months. So, Zoë was kind of grateful that she had the chance to distract herself, take her mind off any decision she might have to make.

Mal was having one of his rants about "this time we'll show 'em", his thumbs looped into his belt, his expression more excitement than determination, as he listed off all the reasons as to why the Polaris had nothing on his little lady to Jayne who was moving crates around and looked less than impressed that Mal was just standing there talking at him, and Kaylee, who was flat on her back under the mule.

"I believe the operative word here is 'teamwork', Sir." Zoë informed him helpfully; trying her best to nip any overly competitive notions Mal might have in the butt.

"Oh, teamwork is all fine an' dandy, but you can't tell me ya ain't keen on showing them what's what after that there little stunt Josie pulled last time we were all partnery on a job."

"It was a joke, Sire, an' we did get the cashy money and she returned the ship… nothin' hurt but your pride."

Jayne gave a rather loud snort of mirth while shoving one of the crates towards the wall, clearly a little too fond of the memory of Mal trussed up like a Christmas turkey and strapped to the mule. When he earned himself a dirty look and two raised eyebrows, he curbed the satisfied grin a little… not significantly, though.

To make things worse, Kaylee muttered from below the mule:

"Good times, good times."

The doc, who'd been making his way towards them from the infirmary, whipping his hands on some disinfectant cloth, simply gave Zoë a questioning look.

"'Job's too big for just one ship an' crew, we had to call in some old friends."

"If'n friends is what ya wanna call 'em." There was a distinct note of amused petulance in the captain's tone of voice, and Zoë couldn't help but smile at that odd mix.

Simon still looked puzzled, so Zoë deemed it best to give him the full story.

"'Old army buddy of ours is in much the same business as us… we've done jobs with her crew before… mostly works out well."

Mal snorted and muttered: "Mostly."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but am I mistaken in thinking that most encounters with former war acquaintances of yours have an unfortunate tendency of ending badly?"

_Well, the doc sure had a point there._

---

'Turned out, this time was different. Not only did the whole job go off without a hitch, but Josie didn't even try anything. Not that any of her other stunts had really been as bad as Mal insisted; for a man who had no problem overlooking multiple attempts on his live by one crazy old harpy by the name of Patience, he sure was touchy when it came to Josie.

They'd got some prime intel about this mule trek across fifty miles of desert on Harvest; Alliance taxes from the outer settlements, no big crafts involved, since the magnetic disturbances of a charged subterranean rock formation threw off any nav systems more sophisticated than a compass. This meant that every three months, there was a heavily guarded convoy of mules, transporting a quarter's worth of monetary blood and sweat, making its way across the middle of nowhere, ready to be alleviated of their heavy burden by anyone feng leh enough to risk facing about 20 Alliance soldiers and any number of armed drivers.

Mal conjured they were just that brand of crazy.

'Only problem was that they had all of four crew who were vaguely useful in a tight spot, and that did not sound too promising where 30 plus gun toting folk were concerned.

So, getting Josie and her crew in on the action had been the best they'd come up with, what with her being sneaky and all, and with an extra two mules and seven crew, all of whom were decidedly on the rough and burly side, and who ended up eying River as if she were the best joke Mal had ever pulled on them… they'd stopped laughing a few minutes into the job.

The whole thing had been embarrassingly easy, really. They'd waited for the cashy money to be double checked and registered as dues received – no point in upsetting the poor folk of New Hope and Eternity by making them pay their taxes twice, and all – and had kept at a safe distance for the first 18 miles. Now with the trek having been robbed on a few previous occasion, anyone would expect them to be prepared: turned out they were just jumpy, so splitting them up and grabbing the goods was far less complicated than they'd thought. Of course, Mal got shot, as did two of Josie's boys, Tank and Jimmy, but no major harm done, and before anyone could so much as say the word 'backup', they'd gone to ground, and with no ships involved and no trails to track, well, the whole thing had been as easy as breaking a toothless horse.

Things only started to get complicated when they'd made it back to base and the celebrations kicked off.

The crews had barely had a chance to mingle before the job, and while what was generally referred to as the old crew of Serenity was well acquainted with the boys and girls of the Solaris, Zoë noticed a few odd looks and scowls being thrown around the large campfire they'd set up.

Some of them were entirely expected:

Josie Finch was nothing if not a force of nature: tall, slender, and with hair the colour of autumn leaves, she was somewhat hard to ignore; couple this with her generally forward disposition and a certain crudeness to her turn of phrase, her fondness of simply plonking herself into any man's lap, just for the laugh – currently Mal – and you had a somewhat constipated looking Inara.

Much like Zoë, Josie was all rough edges on first encounter; unlike Zoë though, her real disposition was positively sweet. She'd never sexed Mal to the best of her knowledge, and didn't seem to have much of an intention to do so now, even though to the untrained eye it probably appeared otherwise.

She had, however, been sexing Jayne before; Zoë still shuddered at the memory of the rather audible evidence they'd been treated to a few years ago.

This sort of brought her to the unexpected scowls and odd looks.

While draped across Mal's lap, Josie still managed to shamelessly flirt with Jayne, clearly intent on picking up where they'd left off back then, but that's sort of where the predictable ended.

Rather than the cocky grin she would have expected, the merc sported a somewhat sheepish expression, fidgeted with his knife, and seemed to be cursing profusely under his breath. Zoë sat only a few feet away from him and caught something that sounded suspiciously like:

… gorramn man, ain't ya?... sick hun dan… real woman, not some feng leh…"

Zoë had been part of the group taking the cashy money, while Jayne had been with the ones keeping the larger contingent occupied, she had no way of knowing just how hard the thump he must have gotten to his had had been, but talking crazy the way he was, she reckoned it must have been pretty bad.

Shaking her head and once again contemplating the large bowl of beer in her hand and that for a woman who had as yet not made a decision either which way, the fact that she hadn't taken a single sip of her drink seemed sort of telling.

Looking back up, she caught sight of River, standing just within reach of the flickering light of the large fire, hips rolled to one side, arms crossed in front of her chest, and one mightily infuriated expression on her face. Tracing the path of a glare that looked as if she were trying to kill the receiver with her brain, Zoë found her eyes back on Josie once again.

_Now what the gorramn hell was that about?_

She hadn't seen the two even speak to each other. Figuring that it might be better to check with River, just in case Josie had decided to play them after all, she made her way over to the younger woman.

"'Somethin' you feel like sharin'?" She figured River would fill in the gaps in her question and know what she was talking about.

"Fire hair is trying to poach… but nothing of monetary value… not trying to take from anyone but the girl; she should not worry, she has more important things to consider." With that River gave her a small smile, then threw a final death-glare at the redhead in Mal's lap, and vanished into the dark night beyond the glow of the flickering flames.

_Well, that were all sorts o' peculiar. _

Before she'd even made it back to her seat on one of the large logs they'd managed to drag towards the fire, a heavy arm landed on her shoulder and the distinctly beer scented words "'llo there purdy lady" where huffed onto her cheek. Somehow she managed to suppress the automatic reaction of punching the drunk in the face before even looking in his direction; in hindsight she was glad of that decision. Leaning heavily on her shoulder, clearly more intent on keeping himself upright rather than groping her, was one of Josie's new guys… Terry, or Toby, or something else that sounded like a scruffy little dog… and his glazed eyes and complete inability to focus on her, told her that hitting a man in his state was clearly not the noble thing to do, particularly seeing as his hand hadn't gone anywhere but her shoulder yet. His other arm was bandaged, and Zoë remembered that one of the mules had taken a bit of a dive at one point and had deposited two of the men not so gently on the ground; she was sure there had been smoothers involved, and wondered if Simon's usual warning against alcohol had registered at all with this one. The evidence suggested otherwise. The poor hun dun wasn't gonna see straight tomorrow morning for all the pain shooting around in his brain pan… not to mention the fact that he wouldn't remember why he was in so much pain in the first place.

And just like that, some crazy ass plan formed in Zoë's head.

She was pretty sure no one had paid any attention to her… or the fact that she'd been sitting there staring at the same bowl of beer all night, as far as they were concerned, it was just as likely for her to be blind drunk as it was likely for her to be sober.

_Don' much like all that pretendin' go se, but there ain't no way I'm havin' this baby with everyone wondering who the daddy is... and then conjurin' the right answer._

So, she took a final look around the fire: Inara was still glaring at Mal while fending off at least three of Josie's boys, Kaylee and Simon were preoccupied in the usual fashion, with her being drunk and handsy, and him attempting to keep everything 'appropriate'… also better known a 'fighting her off', with the usual success: none. River was nowhere to be found, Jayne now had Josie in his lap, but seemed none too happy about that, and Mal was comparing bandages with Tank and Jimmy.

_Shiny._

Zoë let her knees go wobbly and bent forward a little while wrapping her arm around dog boy, she then dragged him further towards the fire, just so the two of them were clearly visible, and gave a short drunken laugh before stumbling back towards the dark. She heard Mal call after her, but made sure to hurry away before he could even contemplate following them.

She found a small shelter, probably put there for the tiny number of sheep wandering around out here, and shoved T… what's-his-face on a rather dirty pile of straw, he grunted, muttered something and then promptly began to snore.

_Thank the rutten 'verse._

With a sigh of relief – she had contemplated punching him out if necessary – Zoë sat down beside the sleeping stranger, pulled her knees up and simply waited.

She tried to formulate a plan of what exactly she was going to do with a little one… no way in hell was she leaving Serenity… but didn't get much further than the downright frightening prospect of kiddy-proofing the cargo bay… never mind kiddy-proofing Jayne.

She wasn't too worried about how to deal with her kid, she'd been the second oldest of six, all of them boys except for her, and when her ma had died giving birth to Jonah when Zoë was twelve, and her pa had followed the year after, there wasn't anyone there to look after the little ones but her. So she knew her way around infants, just like she knew her way around just how hard life could be.

The crew worried her… more than they should, they were family after all… but there was some odd sense of shame to how she'd come by the child now growing inside of her. After all, Adain had sort of been River's; and hadn't Inara made it clear that she'd never insult Zoë's pride by suggesting someone as 'un-manly' as him for her? What did that say about her? Wasn't there something wrong with a full-grown woman who…?

Her head was spinning at this point, and she decided to focus on more tangible things, like the problem of how to explain the fact that she was almost a month and a half along to Simon; it wasn't unheard of for healthy babies to be born a month early, but the doc would know… then she remembered that he'd delivered all of one baby in his life, and wondered if he'd be upset if she asked to be taken to a specialist for her check ups, they docked on Persephone often enough to find someone there, and their infirmary was equipped to deal with gunshot wounds and cuts, not pregnancies.

River would know… scrap that, River already knew.

Dog boy gave a loud snort, and Zoë figured that enough time had passed to account for some drunk sexing. Just to make things authentic she messed up her hair, re-buttoned her shirt with one button off, and dumped the bowl of beer, which she had somehow managed to bring along, on her britches.

Stumbling back into the large circle of friends still celebrating, she could not help the overwhelming sense of guilt as Mal immediately jumped up to hold her steady:

"Zo, where've ya been?" She noticed him taking in the state of her clothes and her messy hair, and saw a concerned frown form on his features.

She couldn't answer his question and settled for fake slurring:

"I'm'a hed'n back'a da ship, Sirrr."

""Don't seem in fine walkin' form ta me, there, Zoë." He still looked worried.

"I'll take 'er."

Zoë had to fight the urge to snap her head up and stare in shock. Being drunk as a lord, she certainly wouldn't stare at Jayne as if he had just grown a second head for offering to take her back to the ship. She did, however, manage a quick glance back towards Josie, left abandoned on her log, looking like someone just stole her puppy.

_What the rutten hell is up with Jayne?_

Before she had more time to think about that whole problem, he'd slung one arm around her and was dragging her towards Serenity. She heard a very quiet:

"'Must be out of my ruttin' mind, gone as crazy as her" but they both remained quiet for the rest of the short walk.

When the ramp to the cargo bay lowered, Zoë saw River, arms once again crossed in front of her, looking at them as if she'd been expecting them… which, presumably, she had.

Jayne cursed under his breath again, and then shoved Zoë towards the younger woman, who expertly caught her and simply beamed at him. He just gave an angry grunt and announced:

"I'll be in my bunk."

As soon as he'd disappeared from view, Zoë straightened and gave River a baffled look:

"What the gorramn hell is wrong with him?"

River just smiled.

Giving a small snort of exasperation, Zoë took a few steps towards her quarters when she felt River's hand on her arm, she was still smiling, but this was different, smaller, less bright, more gentle:

"Vaginal exams make Simon uncomfortable… unless they are performed in a non-professional capacity."

It took Zoë a moment to catch up with that one:

"So,… he'll _want_ me to go to another doctor?" Zoë ventured.

River nodded, gave her another smile, and then wandered off towards her own bunk.


	12. The Deal

**A/N: Right, updates will be a little sporadic (as they have been), since I'm trying to finish All Blue and Green first… I don't much like having three things on the go, and The Prototype is currently taking a breather. Somehow, though, this chapter really wanted out, and who am I to argue.**

**Reviews would be nice, but I know you lot are a tad on the quiet side… ah, never mind… I'm getting used to it.**

**Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly or Serenity, or any of their characters; I own Adain and the plot… that's plenty. There is a reference to Herman Hesse's poem 'Blauer Falter' in this… it's a metaphor for 'happiness'; I don't own that either.**

Zoë's colours changed dramatically over the following weeks and months. That icy quality some of her darker greens had always held, the shades that reminded River of frost covered blades of grass, the ones that tasted like new fallen snow, seemed to thaw, seemed to brighten into birch leaves and apples. But the older woman still held that dark pool in her heart, only now, River saw glimpses of things beneath the surface. It had already been full when Wash had found her, for she saw small boys, their cheeks hollow and their dark eyes wide, the emptiness in their bellies reaching out for them like a ravenous beast, ready to devour them; she saw Zoë battling with that beast, every day of her young life, she saw the war, and all its rivers of blood; but Zoë had already been a fortress then.

River would now sometimes seek out that ever growing light inside Zoë, bid it to her as a comfort when she woke from dreams filled with ravaged faces and deranged minds, the same way she called Kaylee's sunshine, or Jayne's darkest reds to her. Adain had called it Zoë's 'softness' in his mind, had tended it, without knowing, like a delicate flower, and had cradled it to him, building the shards of his indigo blue self around it. It had been the first thing he'd thought of on waking, and the last thing before his sleep and his own nightmares would claim him, and somehow River knew, that even now, it was keeping some of his blue alive.

She found her in the common area, feet curled beneath her on the couch the way she often sat, but she was not reading today, she was making a small metal spike dance trough wispy yellow fabric, softly singing a song about buttercups and wild hares.

River smiled brightly, and humming along with the by now familiar tune, sat down on one of the chairs across from the older woman.

"Too small to be a good weapon; no use in killing yellow cotton." She gave Zoë a slightly puzzled look.

"I'm sewing, River… for the baby." Zoë had stopped singing, and was bestowing one of her new smiles on the girl; it was light and fluttery, like the wings of butterflies.

A strange closeness had developed between the two; the fact that River was, however unbidden, confidante to all of Zoë's secrets, had resulted in the older woman confiding in her voluntarily. River tried to repay such trust in kind, and told her about Adain and herself, about some of the things that had happened to her while at the Academy, had given some indication, even, as to the reason why she had never 'put Adain to his full use'. Zoë had not understood the last one, and had simply taken away the notion that River was 'sweet on some boy'; saccharin adjectives seemed so entirely unacceptable in the context of Papa Bear, that River had giggled, and Zoë had taken it as a form of confirmation.

That very thought was now in the older woman's mind, and as it wove its way to her mouth, River wondered if she would be able to communicate some of the truth this time:

"So, we'll be back on Persephone in three days, and I've been thinkin' about yer fellow… he's gotta be there, only place we get to of'en enough for you ta form and attachment… right?"

"He will be there, but isn't now." River was rather proud of the lack of complex syntax and multi-syllabic words.

"You talk to him over the cortex?"

Zoë's mind indicated that she was a little puzzled, and that the truth was cloaked in so many layers of improbability, that she was not likely to deduce it from implied and hidden statements.

River was in the process of battling her words into lines, trying to get out the sentence 'there is no need, he's right here', when the object of their conversation, as unbeknownst as that fact might be to the older woman, marched into the common area, clearly on his way from the cargo bay to the mess.

He greeted them both with a small grunt each, and River was hit with that wave of pale orange self-denial and wine-coloured desire, as his eyes briefly landed on her. A shiver ran through River's entire body, from her lips to the tips of her toes, and finally settled in her lower abdomen, pooling there like some thick, hot liquid. She'd caught a glimpse of some of Jayne's internal images as he'd passed, beating them into submission, but not before she'd seen something that involved him, her, and the couch. She grinned widely at his broad, receding back, and took the opportunity to look at Zoë, and then point in the direction of the mess.

"Huh?"

'Not even a glimmer of comprehension from the older woman. River rolled her eyes and gave her her best 'don't be obtuse' look.

There was a small spark in Zoë's mind, but then her own refusal to even contemplate such an idea, doused it almost immediately. Still, Zoë gave River a mildly perturbed and questioning look. River just widened her eyes and nodded vigorously.

There was a hissed curse in Mandarin, as the small metal spike impaled Zoë's index finger, and the older woman shoved the injured digit into her mouth. There were flashes of purple and red, surrounding her like a cloud of tiny bolts of lightning, as she gave River a shocked "What?!!" around the finger in her mouth.

River decided to simply shrug, nonverbal communication had proven incredibly useful today.

"River…. that… that ain't right… that… just… No!... why would ya even let him…."

The shock on her face, and the outrage at what her mind told her was the only possible explanation for this, forced River to battle her words again:

"The mother's conclusions are erroneous, in every possible way. She has been trying to convince Papa Bear that she is not a small child, that it is not morally reprehensible to see her in a sexual context, but he is as thick-headed and stubborn as an outer rim mule. She wished fervently there even were an opportunity to 'let him do' anything, but he has told her that he will not act on his desires, and she has tried to make him… many times… but he will simply not comply."

Here she gave Zoë a frustrated and mildly irritated groan, to imply just how much effort she had gone to.

The other woman simply stared, and gave her another, this time slightly hysterical "What??!!".

River just pouted a little.

"He is too analytical and not impulsive enough, if he allowed himself to succumb to his own wishes, he would understand that all his worries and misgivings are entirely without foundation."

"Ahm… talkin' 'bout Jayne… that's… downright absurd… and… What??!!"

River simply watched as disbelief, confusion, and finally revulsion washed over Zoë. Taking offence at the last one, she huffed and declared:

"She should not judge without fully comprehending; how dare she make assumptions about the girl's affections, when she does not understand the complex emotional and physical effects Papa Bear has on her, and how all the pieces fit together in her mind and heart, and if only he'd let her, would fit together in her body, too."

"… you're serious… River, I never much held with the notion that you were crazy, but…"

River huffed again, and could feel her eyes begin to prickle:

"She meant to reward her trust… with her own, but…"

"No… wait… don' cry… I… I just… Jayne? Really? I mean, who'd ever…? But well… I suppose it does make some feng leh kinda sense… just… ain' he a bit old… an' a bit… ahm… Jayne?"

"Adain is 10 years her junior, she did not seem to mind."

"---"

River had now crossed her arms over her chest and was staring Zoë down, the older woman had gone very quiet, and her mouth was open in a mixture of surprise and pain.

"'Di'n even know he were that young." She muttered quietly, studying her clasped hands, a small drop of blood forming on her index finger once again, as she squeezed a little too hard.

The icy cold slither of the serpent guilt wound itself around River's heart and stomach; she exhaled rather noisily, and told a somewhat shocked Zoë:

"He does not care for such silly things, nor should _she_… life is hard and short, there is no use in agonising over meaningless numbers when all the other pieces fit. The blue butterfly's wings will shimmer just for a moment, and be gone."

Zoë looked up, and gave River a small, sad smile. After a long pause, she asked:

"So… Jayne won'… ya know?"

River huffed again, rolled her eyes, shook her head, and pouted.

A rather a-typical giggle escaped Zoë:

"That's just the most bizarre thing I've ever done heard… so he's what… runnin' from ya?"

River nodded.

Zoe's giggle intensified, and she fell back onto the couch, stretching out, her baby bump sticking up into the air.

"Oh, River, mei mei… that's just… I dunno what ta tell ya… I won't be able to give you any advice… Inara might, but she'd have a coronary if'n she found out… an' Mal would chuck Jayne in da airlock an' space him."

River just nodded again, then ventured:

"Nobody sees her."

Zoë grew a little more serious at this, gave River an understanding smile, and told her:

"'S hard… ya know, but now that you've told me, I'll try my best ta not think on you as a small girl… I know you ain't… 's jut a bit of a shock to da system… I mean… Jayne?... An' ten years ain' the same as 22, but… well…"

River gave her own sad little smile at this, and then noticed something warm and soft pulse from Zoë's centre.

"But think on it this way, mei mei, if'n he's so reluctant, that's gotta mean somethin', right? We're talkin' about Jayne after all. Probably means he's really soft on you, and as much as that might disconcert me, it should at least make you a little happy."

"She knows Papa Bear has complex emotions for the girl, beyond the physical desire to rut with her, but that does not help with the throbbing at her apex, or the…"

"River, I've done said I'll try an' think of you as a woman, that doesn' mean I've gotta have those sorts of images in my head. I've only just stopped throwing up all hours of da day, you don' need to make me nauseas all over again, dong ma?"

River grinned as Zoë gave her a smile that was part genuine disgust and part amusement. She glanced over towards the mess, as some fine red tendrils reached out towards her, quite clearly without permission from their source.

"He is making protein mash and thinking thoughts he thinks he shouldn't, she had better go and sit on the kitchen counter and play with her hair."

She grinned once more as Zoë gave her an odd little groan, and made her way to the mess.

---

Just like she knew he would, Jayne was standing behind the small kitchen island, bowl and spoon in his hands, and was shoving mash into his mouth; he'd clearly been too hungry to waste time with walking to the table and sitting down.

He gave a tiny startled grunt as she approached him, and took a step back. Through a mouth full of food he hissed:

"Now waddya want?"

In complete contrast to his harsh words, the tendrils that had called her to him pulsed and thickened, turned a deep dark burgundy, and wound themselves around her, caressing her with just the smallest measure of rough urgency. She closed her eyes briefly, tilting her head to the side and sighing contentedly; when she opened them again, she gave Jayne that small smile, which she hoped communicated: "what a silly question, she wants the same thing she always does".

He took a further step back at her smile, but the tendrils simply held her more tightly. Like she'd told Zoë she would, River made her way towards him, climbed on the work surface just in front of him, and watched as he stumbled backwards that final step, before colliding with the sink.

She loved the fact that his tracker instincts seemed to curl up and die in her presence, like they were tame pets when compared with those other, wilder, less trained instincts she called forth. She would regularly make him back into a corner or wall, where there was no route of escape, other than past her.

She moved one boot clad foot up onto the work surface, so that her knee was next to her face and her dress was bunched up on one side; she was not wearing britches or shorts today, so she watched as Jayne struggled not to look, then failed miserably, and had to swallow at the sight of her underwear.

There were flashes of bright red anger, first at himself, then at the broken boy, and the thought that he had somehow given advice, instructions.

"She does not need guidance or lessons, Papa Bear's mind is very clear about the things he likes and wants."

He growled at that, turning the red now entirely against himself.

"So, I'm a sick, dirty hun dan… we've done established that, Crazy. Now put yer gorramn leg down!"

He placed his bowl in the sink a little too forcefully, and the loud 'clack' was spiked with silvery sparks. Pushing himself off, he took a determined stride to the right, towards the dining area, and away from her. The tendrils had turned into ropes, and she would not let him blame himself the way he did. With one leap and two quick steps, she was close enough to place her hands on his chest, and push him backwards, this time into the spot right beside the sink.

"Damn' it, Moonbrain, git yer hands off'a me!"

Despite this, he stood rooted to the spot, shock and surprise coating the pulsing burgundy ropes with a thin film of purple. River gently stroked his chest through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, fighting the urge to purr as his pectoral muscles twitched slightly. She smiled up at him, then let her fingers wander to find the two tiny buds, pebbling slightly at the brush of her fingers.

The robes twitched, then expanded outward to melt into one another, forming a thick, all encompassing wall, and River's mind swarm with sheer triumph of having done this to him.

But Jayne hissed through his teeth, and a bright orange flash cut through the glorious solidity of his desire, shoving her away from him, he took a further two steps out of the kitchen.

She gave a strangled little cry of frustration and lunged for him, only to drop into a crouch at the last moment, spin around and knock his legs out from under him with her foot. He hit the metal floor with a loud thump, and lay momentarily stunned, sprawled out on his back. Like a starving, half crazed animal, she crawled on top of him, and straddled his waist. He was staring up at her, the fragments of his desire thickening once more, and River could feel another reaction, one that would be visible to others, just where her body was currently touching his. He almost dazedly raised his arms to try and push her off, but she grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the floor above his head, leaning forward, breathing him in, allowing his scent, the feel of him beneath her, and the pulsing deep wine of him surround her like a fog.

"What the rutten hell are you two doin'?!"

River's head snapped up, and Jayne sort of bent his own backwards on the floor, they both simply stared at Mal, who had just appeared in the hatch leading to the bridge. Dark orange anger and confusion were crashing off Captain Daddy, and River could barely believe that she had not sensed anything, that she had been so caught up in Jayne, that Mal had simply appeared out of nowhere.

"They were sparrin', Sir."

River's head whipped around, and Jayne turned his head sideways, his mouth was now open in sheer shock. In the hatch just across from Mal, Zoë was leaning against the metal arch, one hand on her bump, and gave Captain Daddy a challenging look.

"How'd _you_ know? You weren' even here."

"They started in the common area,… made their way up here, Sir."

"Huh."

The small spark of doubt in Captain Daddy's mind was smothered immediately by his own desire to forget the distasteful notion that had flitted through his thoughts for the briefest of moments.

"Well, do that there crap in the cargo bay, I ain't payin' fer noghin' you break in here." With that he turned on his heel, and marched back to the bridge, rolling the hatch shut behind him.

"You might wanna try an be a bit more quiet." Zoë raised an eyebrow in distaste, then gave a small grunt, and shook her head at Jayne, who was still staring, mouth open. She, too, turned and made her way back to where she'd come from.

"What the gorramn hell just happ'ned?"

River gave him a small giggle, then bent down and captured his lips with hers. He gave a noticeable start, then seemed to struggle momentarily, his mind abuzz with the fact that Captain Daddy had already walked in on them, and the eternal litany of 'ain't right', and the mystery that was Zoë's intervention, but as she licked at him hungrily, and his mouth opened to her almost against his own will, his struggle subsided. The wall of his desire thickened around them, and as he finally responded to her kiss, River's hands released his wrists, and found their way into his short hair. A small moan escaped her, as Jayne put his hands on her waist and pulled her into him, groaning at the contact. His taste and scent once more clouded her mind, and suddenly there was a new tendril of desire, snaking it's way into her field of vision, only this one was not dark red, and did not come from Papa Bear; it was bright silver, shot through with streaks of azure, and as she followed it from it's tip backwards, she realised that it originated in her chest. She had never seen her own colours, never even knew if she had any, had feared that she was as empty as, or even more so than, Adain. Silver and bright blue made a beautiful kind of sense to her… she was like Simon, like Adain… only backwards. She was so distracted by her thoughts, that she did not even notice at first, when Jayne lifted her off him, straight up in the air, and she merely hung there like a rag doll. He rolled to the side, gently depositing her on the ground next to him.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes lidded, and he shook his head, resting on the floor:

"I ain't doin' this, River."

She whimpered at the sound of her name on his lips, and closed her eyes in delirious happiness for a moment, before the meaning of his words took shape in her mind.

"But I can't fight ya off,… so I'll make ya a deal… there ain't gonna be any sexin', dong ma? An' if'n you don' stick to that, an' try sommit, I'll have ta leave da ship… no matter how much I don' wanna… you got that? So… I'll kiss ya, and be nice ta ya, an' I'll touch ya… but that's it… an' you gonna drive me rutten mad… but… ain' no way to be the way we are now… what with you bein' downright stupid about Mal… an' Zoë… ahm,… spekin' of… how come Zoë… ehm…"

"She told her."

"Then why ain't she tryin' ta shoot me?"

River shrugged and smiled at him a little sadly:

"She understands better than Papa Bear."

"You can't call me that no more… were creepefyin' afore, but now…"

"She does not see him like a father… she has Captain Daddy for that, but he is like a papa bear, grumbly and irritable on the outside, but strong and protective when his cups are threatened… they are all his cups… they just don't realise it… and neither does he."

"Huh."

He was quite and thoughtful for a moment, then grew pale rose and uncomfortable at the thought, and returned to what he had said before:

"So, we doin' this my way… ya hear?"

She nodded demurely, her own head now resting on the floor to mirror his:

"She is willing to take what he is offering."

He gave another grunted 'huh', then rose from the floor, and made his way towards his bunk, she looked at him pleadingly, but he shook his head:

"Uh-uh… enough fer today… you gonna make me have a heart attack as it is."

She shook her head rather vigorously, indicating that she knew better, but he just grunted, adjusted his crotch, and made for his bunk once more.

As he disappeared from view, River noticed that there were now three silvery tendril stretching out towards him, shimmering faintly; she allowed her fingers to pass trough them, making them turn to wispy nothings, before taking form again, and straining in the direction of where Papa Bear had disappeared.

She sat on the floor, her arms around her knees, and smiled at the sparkly silver mist that surrounded her, as her desire slowly faded into contentment.

She would change Papa Bears mind, somehow.


	13. Baby Shopping and 'We'

**A/N: Right, so, writer's block sucks! Let me know if anyone is still reading this… and if I've lost my touch… it's been so long.**

The loud screams were driving him feng leh. It had been bad enough when Kaylee'd been shot; but she at least had been all quiet like. And he'd worried the same way, quietly, so nobody really knew. But Zoë was screaming the metal sheeting off the hull, and cursing like she were… well, _him_.

He'd been around childbirth before, had five little brothers and sisters on top of his three older brothers, and since his ma knew all about being up the spout, she'd been the midwife around their neck of the woods when he was little; that didn't mean this whole thing wasn't making Jayne mightily discomfited.

He was looking down into the sick bay through the small window, Zoë's back thankfully to him, and was watching as the doc and Inara were busying themselves between her wide open legs.

If he wasn't so damn disturbed by the gorramn screaming, he'd find that funny.

'_Ain't no way to think about a friend in labour._

He chided himself, then huffed because he really was going soft.

_Stupid, pathetic, dirty old hun dun._

As if she'd been waiting for him to think of her, River placed her small hand on his shoulder, making him turn his head to look up at her standing just behind him.

"She has felt much pain before, and never received the rewards she will for her suffering now."

Her smile was all soft and reassuring and made his stomach twist in a way he wasn't comfortable with. He tried very hard to scowl at her, but simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

River stepped around him, and sank to her knees right beside where he was sitting on the floor.

"Ain't too sure you should be watchin' this, lil' one."

He couldn't very well call her 'Crazy' anymore, but he also hadn't worked up the nerve to use her name regularly, or to call her by a proper form of endearment. She just smiled at him sweetly and took his hand in hers.

He wanted to pull away, but her small slender fingers were cool and soothing in his callused paw, and he considered that he'd been denying himself enough over the last two months, he'd allow himself this.

He snorted silently to himself.

'_Ain't had no trim in over ten months, an' now ya think holdin' hands makes up fer that… you ain't gone soft, Cobb, you've gone mad. _

River just smiled brilliantly, reassuringly, at him:

"She is no stranger to the end result of reproduction. And blood and pain do not scare her, they are like shadows in her mind where _they_ have placed them. But Zoë's pain is brighter than those."

Then she took a deep breath, a look of intense focus settling on her face:

"And she is a girl, she will be where Zoë is one day."

That just made him feel all kinds of weird, since she was looking at him intently, only not weird in the way it should.

_No… no, no, no… you ain't goin' there. You ain't breedin' with the crazy little she-harpy who ain't got no better sense 'an to pick you of all the dirty, stupid and perverted bastards out there._

She smiled at him sweetly again, almost as if she considered his thought processes to be somehow endearing, and squeezed his hand lightly.

Zoë gave an agonized groan that sounded almost like it wasn't coming from a human being, then muttered quietly to herself. Simon and Inara were mumbling encouragements at the now exhausted looking first mate; she'd been at this for hours. Mal was laid out on the bed next to her; he'd done his capteny duty, and had been prepared to hold her hand trough the proceedings… only to be punched out by Zoë as a strong contraction hit and he'd told her it was 'all right'. She'd taken offence at that, considering that he'd sounded a little patronising. Zoë wasn't exactly sunshine and daisies when in labour… not that she was any other time.

There was a final long wail from their first mate, some frantic and excited activity between her legs, which Jayne and River couldn't see, and then a long drawn out bawl of a cry, as Simon lifted a bloody and, frankly, slimy looking baby into their field of vision.

Inara busied herself to the side, preparing to clean up the baby, but Simon placed it, as was, on a towel he'd just spread on Zoë's chest. Judging from the shakeing of her shoulders, she was crying.

Jayne didn't much know what to say or think. The last of his siblings, his baby sister Amy, was born when he was thirteen… a long time ago… and since then, nobody he really cared about had had little ones.

Simon busied himself with the umbilical cord, then dealt with the afterbirth. Zoë seemed to barely take note of anything other than the bloody little bundle in her arms.

Finally, Simon handed the little critter over to Inara and helped Zoë into a more comfortable position. When Inara handed her a now clean and swaddled infant, River tugged on his hand as she rose.

Too preoccupied to struggle, he followed meekly as she led him down the stairs and to the open door of the infirmary. He did recall to let go of her hand before they got there, though; far too many pointy, shiny things lying around the place for the doc to stab him with.

Kaylee was standing by the open door on the side opposite to River and Jayne, tears in her eyes, but a bright smile on her face. They all scrambled through the narrow space a little haphazardly, gazes firmly fixed on the small fabric covered creature held against Zoë's chest. She raised her head, her hair was dishevelled, there were dark smudges beneath her eyes and she looked exhausted, but then she smiled in a way Jayne had never seen before, not even when Wash was still alive. Zoë looked like the sun itself.

Kaylee and River had taken up position behind the first mate, with the former making cooing noises at the baby, while the latter smiled and studied the child intently. Jayne still stood frozen just inside the door, not entirely sure what to do with himself.

"She ain't gonna bite ya, Jayne… might as well come closer and take a look." Zoë was now smiling directly at him, and the warmth in her expression made him feel oddly more sure of himself; so he did as he was told.

The tiny critter curled up against Zoë's breast was something of a surprise. Skin the colour of toffee, with a full head of soft dark curls, the little thing actually looked up at him. His ma had always told him that all babies had blue eyes, but he reckoned this little one was different on account of her own ma, still the startling dark olive green of the infant's eyes came as a bit of a shock.

All Jayne could muster was: "Girl?" since Zoe had said 'she'.

"Sure is." There was that warm smile again.

"And big too. From what I've read in the journals, she's a really good weight for being so early." Simon looked rather satisfied with himself.

They'd make landfall on Persephone in another week, and Zoë had intended to stay there until the little one was born, only junior had had other notions.

"Oh Zoë," Kaylee sighed from behind her "she's absolutely beautiful."

Jayne reckoned that, as far as babies went, that was pretty much true.

88888888

They'd been in the Eavesdown docks for a week now; it had taken them this long to get another job, but Kaylee had finally managed to land them a hand full of passengers, while Mal had procured some rather dubitable cargo to be taken to Osiris.

_Well, nothing new there._

Inara was pleased, since Osiris would provide her with the sort of clients she favoured, but the rest of the crew was just a might twitchy about their destination… not enough to turn down the job, mind you, but still…

There was their whole history with the Tams, the big medicine haul, and for Jayne, the memory of trying to sell River off to the bastards who'd tortured and twisted her for years, and had driven most of her mind into hiding.

He was lying in his bunk, his eyes blind to the busty half naked girls winking and smiling down at him. He'd considered taking them down, and then had had given himself a stern internal talking to. He was still Jayne Cobb, damn it, and these were his girls… he'd as soon take them down as he'd dismount the guns and knives from the wall beside him. Some of them had been with him longer than Vera, the paper they were printed on turning yellow with age. So what if they didn't quite have the effect on him they used to; so what if they were too different from the kind of body that excited him now. Keeping them there somehow made him feel less pathetic, less _caught_.

This train of thought just brought him back to feeling guilty… about betraying her in the medical facility, about wanting her now, about being a coward in general.

There was the soft clicking of metal studded army boots on the ladder of his access hatch.

"Damn it, Moonbrain… didn' I go an' tell ya to stop hackin' ma lock."

She didn't respond, didn't even stop, just skipped the last two rungs and landed on the floor of his bunk with a soft thud.

He turned his head to study her.

She wore a pale pink dress, cut off beige britches and his orange and yellow hat… now that he thought about it, the hat looked a little silly… and sort of cute.

_Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la-doo-tze! Had he just thought the word 'cute'?_

River smiled widely at him and semi-danced/shimmied her way to the foot of his bed where she pouted at him prettily.

"Uh-uh, lil' one, not a chance… middle o' the day, an' the ship is pro'ly crawlin' with folk."

Her pout vanished, and she gave him a positively wicked little grin:

"Inara has and 'appointment', not salubrious enough to be entirely as she would please, but nutrition is a question of necessity not pleasure. Captain Daddy and Simon are procuring said and other necessities, Kaylee and Zoë are 'baby shopping', which is an entirely inappropriate name for what they are doing, since Zoë already has Sophia, she does not need to buy a baby, and so…." Here she waved around the room, presumably indicating the whole ship, her eyes never leaving him.

"Don' make no difference if'n we're all alone… makes it worse. I ain't 'entertainin'' ya when there's no-one around… 's just harder this way."

Her wicked grin turned positively feral. Slightly alarmed, Jayne tried to sit up and get off his bed, but River had already crawled up his legs and was now straddling his knees. He fell back onto his pillow with a small groan:

"I could just shove ya off."

"Jayne could, but he won't."

_Yea, and that was his problem right there._

She was still grinning like he was fresh strawberries and she were starving, and crawled the rest of the way up his body, giving him, rather generously, a good view down her dress.

"What've I done an' told ya bout wearing underwear?" He meant it to sound stern, but it came out a little breathy and strained.

"She does. She is wearing 'knickers'." She giggled a little as she gave the last word a decidedly cockney turn of phrase.

"And she wore a bra all day… she thought Papa Bear might appreciate the view."

She swayed slightly, her small breasts moving with her, and Jayne groaned.

He took hold of her shoulders and growled:  
"I've told ya I can tell when you do things ya don't really understand."

"She understands… not the way she would like to, but Jayne will not teach her, make her comprehend the full implication in as far as they pertain to her." She looked huffy and a little petulant, and so terribly young. And he felt dirty and excited, and then dirtier for feeling excited, all at once.

""Ain't right." He muttered his by now paperthin mantra.

"She will make it right." She told him, and pressed her lips to his. She had him all figured out by now; all she had to do was wriggle her little butt into his crotch, stick her tongue down his throat and make that maddening little purring noise that came straight from her chest and shot right to his groin, and all measurable brain activity in Jayne's head seized.

Always one to enjoy dominance in women within very strict limitations, Jayne managed to roll on top of her without crushing her, and took charge of the kiss. She tasted as sweet as she had that day on Greenleaf, and her purrs of pleasure, quickly turned into wanton little moans as he pressed his rather obviously excited John Thomas against the apex of her thighs.

Her little hands were roaming around inside his shirt, her nails scraping his back before her fingers danced to his front and found his nipples, making him hiss. Her teeth were nipping at his lower lip, so he deepened the kiss once again, opening her mouth with his lips and curling his tongue around her own. She arched into him, and quite without his permission, his large hand found her small breast. When he gently pinched her nipple, she threw back her head and moaned:

"Jayne!"

That somewhat kicked his brain back into gear. He froze for a second, then decided to tread carefully, after all, he could have gotten this wrong. She had referred to him by name before… in the third person… but this had sounded like a direct address… and she'd never done _that_ before. Rubbing his palm over her breast, he softly growled into her ear:

"Tell me what you want, baby girl."

"… again…" She was positively whimpering now.

"Uh-uh… ya can do better'n that, baby girl. Ya know what I want."

"Again, Jayne."

He kissed her, _hard_, then pinched her nipple while she moaned into his mouth and clawed at his back. He felt irrationally proud of her, like she'd just done the impossible… and maybe she had. He felt like he needed to reward her, and knowing that she'd already heard that thought, he simply panted, a mere breath form her lips:

"Anythin' ya want, sweet thing… anythin'."

"Touch… her there."

She pressed harder into him, and all his better judgement abandoned him. He reached for the fastening on her britches, and between his fumbling and her wriggling, they managed to get rid of them and her 'knickers' in less time than it took to sneeze. Jayne just kept kissing her, determined not to look.

'_Sight o' here lil' pussy's just gonna break ya, and you know it._

But visuals or not, she was soft and so wet and turned quite frantic as he touched her little bud, panting his name like she'd never had a problem with calling him by it. And when she arched off his bed with a little wail and he felt her muscles flutter just below where his fingers were touching, he came in his pants like he was nothing but a spotty teenager.

She was still in her dress, he hadn't even taken off his T-shirt, and the whole thing had made him more hot and bothered than he could ever remember being.

Panting, he rolled them both so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other on his narrow bunk. She was breathing heavily, a slight sheen of sweat on her face and chest, and she was smiling at him, an expression in her light brown eyes that made his stomach twist and burn with heat.

And suddenly he remembered his worries again.

"'Won't ever do it again… ya know that, right, lil' one?" He trusted she knew he wasn't talking about touching her.

"He did not know back then… did not know what she had endured."

"How come I ain't 'Jayne' no more?" He frowned at her, feeling oddly hurt.

"She is never sure if he is real… if she is real… but he seemed real then. 'Must not allow wishful thinking to could her judgement. She let them break her once, she was careless and fragile, all the kings horses and all the kings men…" She smiled a little sadly at that.

"Ya think we ain't real?"

"Perhaps she thinks it would be too precious if we were."

He pondered this after she'd fallen asleep. Wondered at how fragile she looked curled up against his substantial bulk; how such a delicate little thing could be so strong… and more importantly, so passionate. He'd been with enough women to know that River was special in this, too. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd just given her her fist orgasm, and the dirty-old-man-smugness he felt at that thought didn't bother him as much as he thought it should.

He didn't quite understand that last bit she'd said, didn't have enough of her smarts to grasp all the implications of what she had told him, but he understood just how much she'd been hurt, how much those hun duns had taken from her. They'd taken herself away from her, and she was scared to give herself back… just in case they'd do it again.

He also knew that she'd said 'we'.


End file.
